


The Claiming

by And_The_Rest



Series: Surrendered [2]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Chemical Enhanced Sex, Dubious Consent, Fingering, M/M, Mechpreg, Mpreg, Oral, Sex Toys, Slavery, Spark Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2019-11-05 13:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17919782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/And_The_Rest/pseuds/And_The_Rest
Summary: Having won the war, the victorious Decepticons intend to spark up their Autobot slaves.   However, there may be a bit of a complication.





	1. Starscream/Smokescreen

**Author's Note:**

> Surrender was originally supposed to be just a one-shot, but the ideas keep coming. So, here we go.
> 
> I do not own The Transformers Etc. and any mistakes are my own.

Smokescreen was trembling so violently by the time they reached Starscream’s quarters that the young mech’s plating rattled. Even so, frightened as he was, a part of him was grateful that the Seeker had opted not to frag him on the bridge in front of everyone as Megatron had done to Optimus.

His tanks still felt queasy at the thought. Smokescreen had almost purged watching helplessly as his Prime was forced to submit and let the tyrant take him on his servos and knees like a mech-animal. 

And even worse, having not just his interface array but also his spark bared for the Cons to leer at.

Optimus was the Matrix Bearer! 

He was supposed to be sacred. The Chosen of Primus. He should be treated with reverence.

How could Megatron treat him like some cheap rent bot?

Even worse, after being forced to merge with the evil monster, Optimus was almost certainly carrying Megatron’s sparkling. Or sparklings. Even as young and naive as everyone thought he was, Smokescreen knew basic biology. Multiple sparklings were common. Especially for large mechs like Optimus and Megatron.

Their Prime’s frame was utterly limp after being defiled. Optimus just lay there sprawled on the floor. His red and blue coloring a stark contrast to the purple Decepticon symbol beneath him. 

His optics were dark. Optimus’ open interface panel dripping transfluids and lubricant. 

Smirking smugly at having fragged his rival into recharge, the Decepticon lifted his lanky frame and draped the unconscious Prime over his spiky shoulder. “I expect every Autobot to be sparked as soon as possible,” Megatron said as he left the bridge, lewdly fondling Prime’s bare aft as the elevator door closed behind them.

Starscream’s low chuckle brought the young mech back to the present and his own dire situation. “Calm yourself, Autobot. If you keep shaking like that your armor is going to fall off.”  
A mental picture the Seeker obviously enjoyed. “Although, I must say, getting my servos on your soft protoform is not an unpleasant thought.” 

The young mech hugged himself tightly, attempting to bring his fear under control. 

Or at least minimize the rattle. 

“So, I take it I am to be your first?” The Seeker sounded almost giddy at the prospect of deflowering the young Autobot.

For a moment Smokescreen just stared at him in utter shock, but then shook his helm almost violently. “No,” he gasped, glaring in defiance. 

The Autobot not a virgin and he was glad of that. Starscream would not be the one to take his seal. He and Bumblebee had taken each other’s seals only a few weeks ago. 

Although not before a long lecture from Ratchet. The medic had very quickly realized where the two young mechs’ cyber-hormones and curiosity were leading. He gave them some advice on how to proceed without injuring or sparking one another. 

Yes, Smokescreen knew that it had been necessary, but Primus, that had been an awkward conversation.

At least he and Bumblebee would have that sweet memory. There had been laughter and mashed nasal ridges, but they had both enjoyed it immensely. 

He tried not to think of what was, at that moment, happening to his friend at Soundwave servos. 

Or tentacles. (Ew.)

“Really? You seem like you are just into your adult upgrades.” The Seeker looked a little surprised. “So, what is your secret to looking so young? Do you moisturize?”

Smokescreen bristled. He had watched enough Television with the children to understand the joke. “I was capture and put into stasis on a Decepticon prison ship when Iacon fell,” he admitted without hesitation. It did not matter if the Decepticons knew now. “I can only guess there was some sort of catastrophic event. All I know is that I woke up alone in a storage bay with no Decepticons, or even other Autobot prisoners in sight. The only thing still working on the ship was the computer that was counting down to autodestruct and a couple of escape pods. I was lucky there were more pods than mechs when the ship was abandoned. And I do not know why I was not either taken with them or deactivated? Maybe they forgot I was there?” 

“That explains a lot. No one connected that empty Decepticon escape pod we found a few months ago with the new addition to Prime’s little group,” noted Starscream. “Ah well, enough small talk. Since Megatron has likely already sparked up your former leader, it would be embarrassing for me not to do the same to my pretty slave.”

Smokescreen’s face plate flushed, and his spark constricted. He was nearly hyperventilating when the Decepticon started to stroke his back. “Calm yourself, Smokescreen. That is your designation, correct?”

“Y-yes.” He was embarrassed by how close his vocalization sounded to a sparkling’s chirp.

“Well, since you are not a virgin, you at least have some idea of what comes next,” said Starscream, appraising the pretty mech. “Do not worry. The rumors that we are a bunch of sadists are not true. We Decepticons do not enjoy hurting our berth partners. Well, most of us anyway. And as Megatron says, we want sparklings. Harming you would be counterproductive to our goal.” 

He looked at the young mech thoughtfully for several moments. Then he smiled. “Get on the berth and open your array.” He ran a servo over the young mech’s helm, petting him gently. “And do try to relax. I really do not intend to hurt you.”

Suppressing a whimper, the young mech obeyed. There was no point in resisting. The Autobots had surrendered. They were slaves.

His helplessness almost overwhelmed him. But he refused to cry or beg. They had not been defeated. Megatron cheated, using those Terrorcons to force their compliance. 

Besides, Smokescreen was a member of the Elite Guard. Never mind that he had just graduated the academy weeks when Iacon fell. He would not let the Decepticons see him break. 

Once the sleek racer lay back on the berth, his optics shuttered, and he gripped the mesh on the berth. Smokescreen stiffened as Starscream fingers stroked the sensitive folds of his valve. He even leaned down and licked the tip of the young mech’s spike. Despite the situation the touch felt surprisingly good. It was not long before young mech was biting his lower lip plate to keep from moaning as a charge began to build.

His stoicism did not last long.

 

Starscream’s smile widened as his slave began to moan loudly. Knock Out had given him some lubricant laced with a few chemicals that would heighten a mech’s sensitivity. All those that had been given custody of Autobots had a few tubes. 

It did annoy him slightly that Megatron had not needed to use any on Optimus, but then, those two had a lot of history. And the way both mechs obsessed over one another… 

It was not that surprising that Prime succumbed. Optimus had probably fantasized about being captured and ravaged by his rival any number of times. 

Still, it did not matter that some chemicals were used. The very satisfying result was Smokescreen begging for his spike. 

“So beautiful,” Starscream chuckled, still sliding his fingers in and out, slowly stroking Smokescreen’s ceiling nodes more vigorously. He continued to tease the pretty Grounder, watching him writhe and moan. 

He had chosen well, taking this sweet young thing to his berth. 

Better than Shockwave’s new toy. Ratchet was not exactly unattractive, but he was rather old and might not be able to carry. If he really was infertile, the old medic would likely end up as part of one of Shockwave’s ghastly experiment.

Then again, the emotionless scientist probably did not even know what to do with his own interface equipment, let alone a berth slave. Well, if Ratchet was fertile, maybe Shockwave would let some of the Vehicons have go at the medic. They could always use more soldiers.

Either way, Starscream did feel a little sorry for Ratchet. (Only a little, but for Starscream even that was quite surprising.) 

 

Smokescreen gasped as as he watched in terrified fascination as Starscream opened his interface panel, revealing his spike. At least the Decepticon was not too large. (Primus, he almost fainted when he saw Megatron’s interface rod.) The Seeker was about the same size as Bumblebee. 

The Autobot felt himself relaxed a little, knowing that he could take it without pain.

The young mech tried, but ultimately failed to remain relaxed as Starscream moved over him. But he stiffened and gasped as the head of the spike entered him. It was a little uncomfortable because he was so tense as the Seeker pushed deeper. 

It was not painful, but his valve was clamped down on the intruder. Which brought more of his sensors into contact with Starscream’s spike. Every inch further began to build a charge within the young mech.

By the time the Decepticon was completely sheathed, Smokescreen had released the mesh on the berth and had a death grip Starscream’s shoulders. The smug Seeker was thrusting in and out smoothly, causing the Autobot to moan and eventually move in counterpoint. The charge kept building and building…

“Primus!” Smokescreen cried as a powerful overload coursed through his circuits.

Still smiling smugly, Starscream brushed a finger over the seam of his chest plates. “Open up, my lovely,” he coaxed. “We need to merge.”

Dazed from the overload, Smokescreen shook his helm. Coolant escaped the corners of his optics. He did not want that. If they merged, he would conceive.

The Decepticon leaned in close. “Remember why you and your fellow Autobots are here, Pretty Pet. As much as I am enjoying your chassis, we are here to make sparklings. Now open your chest plates or I will force them open. I do not want to hurt you, but I will if you resist.” 

Fear almost kept him frozen in place. Shuttering his optics and digging deep within himself for strength, the Autobot sent the command for his chest plates to part. Had he been able to see the Seeker’s optics, Smokescreen would probably have been shocked at the gentleness in them as his spark was exposed. 

He let out a cry as long clawed fingers delicately brushed the corona. 

Smokescreen and Bee had not merged sparks. That seemed too intimate. They had not intended to become mates after all. They had just wanted to give each other pleasure and comfort.

Now he wished they had. For Bumblebee’s sake as well as his own. Their first time sharing the spark of another was with an enemy. 

 

“Perfect,” whispered the Decepticon.

The young mech’s optics snapped open, despite his fear. Smokescreen almost expected Starscream’s to dark, tainted with the telltale purple of Dark Energon like his Lord. He had heard that Starscream had once used that vile poison. However, that was a long time ago and the loathsome substance must have dissipated for his spark was pure white, bright and surprisingly beautiful.

A sharp gasp escaped his lip plates as Starscream pressed their sparks together and their very beings merged. 

Smokescreen felt bitterness and anger from his master. No surprise there. Starscream always radiated bitterness. But the young mech also felt vulnerability. A deep desire for approval. An even deeper longing for love. Things that seemed completely at odds with the nasty, selfish, vicious Vosian he had thought Starscream to be. 

He also felt excitement from Starscream at the thought of having little Seekerlings of his own. And surprisingly, he already held some affection for the Autobot as the vessel to bring them about.

Starscream in turn felt the fear and despair in the mech beneath him. Smokescreen was so young. The Autobot was even younger than Bumblebee. And having missed the majority of the war and its horrors, his berth mate was almost painfully innocent. 

Smokescreen had thought Optimus Prime was perfect, infallible. Now thanks to Megatron, his world had been shattered. His spark felt so utterly lost. Starscream found himself petting the trembling young mech and sending reassurance through their new, tentative connection. ‘You are mine. I will keep you safe. You and the little ones will be cared for, always.’ 

And then they both cried out in overload and more. They each felt a third presence coalescing between their sparks.

“YES!” cried Starscream.

The young Autobot was losing consciousness as the events of the day and utter exhaustion overwhelmed him. He felt Starscream carefully close his chest plates. The Seeker turn him on his side and pull him close. “Recharge, Smokescreen. You are safe with me.”

Smokescreen did not believe it for a moment, but he was too tired to argue.

Unable to even keep his optics on, the Autobot fell into a deep, thankfully, flux free recharge.

 

To be continued.


	2. Soundwave/Bumblebee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundwave claims his new slave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Dub Con, Sticky Sex, Chemically Enhanced Sex, Child Soldiers, past Character Deaths
> 
> I do not own the Transformers etc. and any mistakes are my own.

The Decepticon spymaster motioned for the little Autobot to precede him into his quarters. 

Bumblebee balked. A low trembling chirp escaped his damaged vocalizer. 

Soundwave made no sound, just lifted one long, slender arm and pointed towards the open doorway. 

Another moment of silence. The thin clawed servo took hold of the yellow bot’s leash. “Move, you are wasting time,” ordered a voice Bumblebee recognized as Breakdown’s.

The scout finally managed to pull himself together enough to step over the threshold. He relaxed very slightly as Soundwave released the leash and followed after him. 

Neither mech moved as the door closed behind them.

They looked at one another. Bumblebee attempting to stifle a warble of fear as Lazorbeak detached himself from Soundwave’s chest and zipped over to a thick metal bar that had been set up as a perch for the symbiot. 

Slowly, Soundwave lifted his arm again and one long slim finger pointed to the large berth. When the Autobot did not move he took a step closer. “You have your orders,” growled Megatron’s voice.

Bumblebee jumped back with a squeaked.

Soundwave seemed to sigh as he took hold of the leash. Lazerbeak shuffled nervously on his perch as Bee jerked it out of his Dock’s servo with shrill shriek. The trembling Autobot’s back struts slammed into the wall in his haste to escape the looming presence.

Soundwave’s reaction was to slowly cock his helm.

After a long, uncomfortable moment a voice, “You need to calm down.” Bumblebee thought that voice belonged to one of the Vehicons. 

Another very uncomfortable silence. “Get on the berth and lay back like a good little mech,” said Knock Out’s voice. “And I’ll give you a lollipop.”

Bumblebee did not want to know how Soundwave got that recording. If the Decepticon meant it to be soothing or even arousing, he was very much mistaken. 

Soundwave stood still as a statue, waiting for Bumblebee to obey. The young Autobot shivered and a nervous warble escaped his vocalizer. 

Bee tensed as a thin servo reached up and touched his cheek strut. “I will not hurt you,” said Megatron’s voice. The yellow mech had never heard the Tyrant’s voice sound so gentle. Once again, he wondered under what circumstances that recording was made? Who was Megatron talking to?

Becoming impatient, Soundwave took hold of Bee’s chin and turned him to look at the blank face mask. “We are going to make beautiful sparklings together,” said Knock Out’s voice.  
Bumblebee turned away, stifling a sob.

“This will happen,” Megatron’s voice growled. Bumblebee was becoming more agitated. 

The Silent Decepticon was becoming impatient. 

“We are all Cybertronians. We must learn to come together. All must become one.” This was from a speech given by Optimus long ago. Back when he and Megatron were still friends. Before the war. He followed this with another clip of Optimus. “You win, Megatron. As leader of the Autobots, by the laws of the Compact, I surrender myself and those under my command to you.”

Bumblebee was still trembling. A slim hand reached for him. The yellow mech shrank back.

“Bumblebee.” The young Autobot shivered as Optimus Prime’s voice again came from the creepy Decepticon. “Please, do not make this harder on yourself.”

Somehow, hearing that much-loved voice did help calm Bumblebee. He shuddered thinking what his surrogate sire went through. ‘I have no choice,’ he told himself. ‘We are slaves now.’  
Taking a deep vent, he looked past Soundwave at the soft mesh on the berth. 

He was a loyal Autobot and it was his Prime’s command that he submit. 

Soundwave said nothing as he crawled onto the berth and lay on his back. He flinched when a slim finger traced down his chest plats, over his abdomen. It slowly moved to his interface panel. The caresses were gentle. “Open,” said Knock Out’s voice.

With a supreme act of courage, the young scout did as he was ordered.

The Decepticon could still feel stark fear in the yellow mech’s field, so he took some of the lubricant Knock Out had made and began to gently work it into Bumblebee’s exposed valve. He kept his touches gentle.

It was not long before the Autobot began to feel the effects of the doctored lubricant. His whimpers changed pitch and the yellow mech soon found himself moving with the gentle thrusts. The young mech was shocked at his own reaction but he could not stop trying to rub against Soundwave’s very clever fingers.

The Decepticon was pleased by the reaction. He moved positioning himself over the smaller mech. “Yeh’re beautiful,” murmured a low sexy voice. Bee blinked, realizing it was Jazz. Someone he had not seen since leaving Cybertron. The yellow mech did not even know if the saboteur still lived. He spent a few seconds staring up at the Decepticon in shock, wondering how he got THAT soundbite? 

Until suddenly the pleasure overwhelmed everything.

Soundwave moaned as he slowly entered Bee. The young mech was so tight.

Laserbeak shivered, feeling the echoes of his Dock’s intense pleasure. He hummed happily thinking of how good it will be to have sparklings around to play with. He had been lonely after they lost Rumble, Frenzy and Buzzsaw.

The Symbiot was quite young by Cybertronian terms. Still he had done his part in the war. Soundwave had not desire to put his young charges in danger, but he believed in Megatron. As painful as the loss of his siblings was, Laserbeak comforted himself with the fact that the Decepticon cause was just and that they had sacrificed their function for the good of all Cybertronians.

Maybe once he was used to his new situation Bumblebee would spend time with him? Laserbeak knew that the Autobot was not much older than him. He would like to have someone to play Earth video games with.

Bumblebee lay passively beneath his master, while Soundwave panted audibly as he overloaded for the third time. 

Long fingers brushed over the yellow mech’s chest plates. “Show me your spark,” commanded Megatron’s voice. This was a slightly edited sentence that had been spoken on the Nemesis bridge to Optimus.

Too exhausted to resist, Bee did as he was told. Once again, the word, “Beautiful,” was heard as Soundwave revealed his spark.

Both mechs gasped as their sparks mingled. Soundwave already felt much of Bumblebee’s emotions already, but now the Autobot could feel what was behind his captor’s faceless visor.  
The emotions he felt pouring through the connection were surprisingly intense.

Pain and loneliness, a deep sense of loss. He could see the reason. The Symbiots he had lost. Each death took a piece of the dark mech but had made him more determined to win.  
He also felt love for Laserbeak and for Megatron. Soundwave viewed his Lord with reverent devotion.

The Decepticon reached out to Bumblebee, there were no recorded words, only feelings. Security, protection, belonging. These feelings surrounded the young mech’s spark.

Soundwave felt a small pang of guilt as the young mech’s memories flooded into him. Memories that even Bee did not know were buried deep within his processor. 

Out of focus memories of a lovely yellow femme smiling down at him as he nursed. A tall, slim orange mech tickling his abdominal plating.

And then fire, smoke and panic. The burned, broken chassis of the femme huddled over his tiny form. 

Soft crying as a large red and blue blur moved the gray frame and strong servos lifted him up. When it moved closer, Bumblebee looked up into the gentle, sad optics of Optimus Prime. 

A feeling of utter trust welled up in his spark as baby Bee held up his arms wanting to be closer to this wonderful mech. 

They exchanged more memories. Bumblebee felt Soundwave’s despair as he was thrown into a cell in the area. The overseer sneering, “Skinny, freak. The real Gladiators will make short work of you.”

Soundwave recoiled as Megatron snarled, ripping out the defiant young scout’s voice box. 

More memories and feelings, good and bad flooded their consciousness. Their essence mixed and mingled, building and building until they each cried out in overload.

The exhausted Bumblebee fell into recharge immediately. Laserbeak had also quickly drifted off and was venting softly.

Soundwave did not follow them. Instead he held Bumblebee tightly against his frame. He was tired, but his processor refused to shut down. 

There had been no coalescing of their energies within the Autobot’s gestational chamber during the merge. No sparkling.

Laserbeak stirred, feeling the echoes of his Dock's concern. Soundwave quickly pulled in his own feelings and sent gentle reassurance to his symbiot. ‘Sometimes it takes more than one merge to create a sparkling.’

The bird-former nodded, powering down again. 

Everything would be alright. 

Surely there would soon be sparklings.

There had to be.

To be continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: A look at Shockwave and Ratchet.


	3. Shockwave/Ratchet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shockwave claims his breeder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Sticky Sex, Spark Sex, Masturbation, Chemically Enhanced Sex, Mpreg, Mechpreg
> 
> I do not own The Transformers Etc, and any mistakes are my own.

Ratchet followed behind the purple Decepticon.  The binders had been removed, but he still felt the uncomfortable weight of the collar and leash on his neck cables.

Shockwave ran a small scanner over the medic’s torso.  His single optic turned to focus on his slave. 

Ratchet was hard pressed not to flinch under his scrutiny. 

“Most interesting,” he said impassively.  “Your frame is somewhat undernourished from lack of energon and deficient in many trace minerals, but your gestational chamber is fully functional.  I thought it unlikely you were fertile because of your advanced age.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” huffed Ratchet. “Besides, I am not that much older than Megatron.”

“No matter.  You are fertile,” conceded the scientist in his usual bored monotone.  “My Lord’s orders are clear.  I am obligated to spark you.”

“Don’t do me any favors,” shrugged the Autobot. 

“I will not,” answered Shockwave.  He took out a small tube from his subspace.  “Knock Out made this to facilitate copulation.”  He held it out to Ratchet between his thumb and forefinger.   His attitude as he shoved the innocuous tube towards him was akin to how most mechs might hold a dead glitch-mouse found beneath the berth.  “Prepare yourself.”

“You do know how to sweet talk a bot,” grumbled Ratchet snatching the tube.

“Sarcasm is not appreciated.  It will be distasteful enough having to engage in this messy procedure without unnecessary distractions.”

“You do realize that you do not have to ‘face’ me? It looks like you have everything needed for me to induce artificial insemination.  There is no need for you to touch me,” noted Ratchet.  “It is very easy and does not involve any effort on your part other than to donate transfluids and unfortunately, a merge.”  The medic did not want to carry for his captor, but his suggestion was preferable to being rutted on by Shockwave. 

Sadly, there was no way around a spark merge.

 Shockwave stood still, his logical mind analyzing the logic of the suggestion.

“Artificial insemination would be more convenient; however, the chances of conception are greatly improved by mutual overloads.”  The Decepticon’s single optic never left Ratchet’s chassis.  The gaze was impassive, but the Autobot still felt his plating crawl.  “The increased probability of sparking makes the extra effort of interfacing an acceptable exchange.” 

The Autobot tried not to flinch as Shockwave’s gaze settled on his interface panel.

“You will immediately proceed with the preparations.  I have many tasks waiting for my attention.”

“You certainly know how to sweet talk a mech.” Shockwave simply continued to stare down at Ratchet’s panel with that single, unblinking optic.   “Fine, let’s get this over with.  Where is the berth?” inquired the medic. 

“Unnecessary,” Shockwave said impassively.  “There is a clear section on that table that will suffice.  Lean over it.  Your valve will be at the optimal height to receive my spike.  You may then sit upon it while we merge.  Once you are sparked, I will be able to return to my experiments immediately.  Once this is concluded, I will have no more need of you today.  You may take a ration of energon, and there is a wash rack a spare berth through there.” Shockwave pointed to a nearby door.

“Only you could make interfacing sound like a boring chore,” sighed Ratchet disgustedly.

“It is.  If my Lord had not ordered me to sire sparklings, I would not waste my time,” snapped Shockwave. 

Ratchet sighed.  “Fine.”  He walked to the table and leaned over it.  The medic opened his panel giving his master a perfect view of his valve.  He squeezed a generous amount of the lubricant onto his fingers, then spread his legs.  He stiffened slightly as he the cool jell touched his valve lips.  

Even so, he felt a sudden surge of arousal. A small corner of his processor quickly identifies the chemical Knock Out used. 

At least it was not something dangerous.  It was legal before the war.  Considered a cheap, harmless recreational drug.

It was easy to ignore the silent mech behind him.  The chemical’s effects were extremely intense. 

Ratchet could not stop a moan.   Between his fingers stroking his sensitive nodes expertly and the chemical enhancement overtaking his senses, it felt very good.   If Shockwave had a decent sized spike, he should get a good overload out of it, no matter how inept or uninterested his owner might be in the procedure.

 

Shockwave found himself watching Ratchet’s fingers moving in and out of his plump wet valve lips.  Lubricant dripped down his sturdy thighs.   He was quite surprised when his spike began to respond quite positively to the sight. 

It had been a very long time since he had felt any sort of arousal.  Not since the Empurata.  There had not been a twitch from his rod since he awoke in the ally, emotions and sex drive completely surpressed. 

His spike cover slid aside suddenly, freeing his very interested organ.  The scientist was painfully aroused.

Interesting.  His analytical mind turned over his surprising physical response.  Was he somehow responding to the chemicals?  No, that could not be.  They were topical, not airborne.  And they were made to be absorbed readily through the thin mesh of the valve.    

And yet, there was also the distinct and little remembered burn of lust rising within him. 

How fascinating.

Shockwave hummed watching the Autobot’s hips move in a most enticing way.   To his immense surprise, a charge had already begun to build in his frame.  The feelings that accompanied it were strange and somehow thrilling.   

Ratchet let out another hoarse moan.  The lubricant was doing its job well.  The medic was fingering himself with abandon, the chemically enhanced arousal causing him to forget that he had an audience. 

Panting now as his cooling fans kicked in, Shockwave felt his spike cover move aside to accommodate the quickly rising organ.  He tried to separate himself from the lust but found that he could not.  Burning need coursed through his lines.

Shockwave growled.  He wanted that valve, NOW!

The Decepticon stalked up and pulled the medics servo out of the way.   He grabbed Ratchet’s hips and shoved his spike in to the hilt, lifting his peds off the floor with the force of it.  Oh, yes, that felt so good!  The tight, wet heat surrounding his spike.   

The scientist had all but forgotten just how good interfacing felt.

A part of him almost felt panic, another emotion he thought completely erased, at the intensity of the lust.  He should not be feeling this way.  Shockwave should not feel anything at all. 

Sparking Ratchet was supposed to be a simple physical act.  There should be nothing else involved. 

Certainly not desire.

Ratchet was moaning louder and pushing back against him.  Shockwave quickened his pace, so the pair of them were thrusting, growling and grunting like turbo-foxes in heat.

With the tightening of Rachet’s valve as he climaxed, the purple mech cried out as his own overload hit.  His hips jerked several more times, pumping transfluids into the wonderfully tight valve.

The two mechs sprawled awkwardly over the table.  Shockwave’s spike was still firmly in that perfect valve.

It was very comfortable, Ratchet loved the feel of that nice big spike inside him and Shockwave was still basking in the afterglow of his first overload in the last four million stellar cycles.

It was fragging amazing.

A tiny part of the purple mech’s ever logical mind attempted to intrude on his enjoyment, reminding him that he needed to merge with Ratchet to create a sparkling.  Somewhat begrudgingly, he pulled out.  Still under the influence of the drugged lubricant, the Autobot whimpers plaintively at the loss.

“Turn around and open your chest plates,” Shockwave said, sounding much less firm and controlled than he liked.  This situation was a little disconcerting to him.  The Decepticon tried and failed to get himself back under control.  His spark was pulsing, and his spike still ached with need.

Ratchet blinked at the words.  He was still somewhat confused in the chemically enhanced, post colitis haze.

Shockwave would not allow his desire to be denied for the few seconds it would have taken for the medic to recover enough to move on his own.  He lifted the sturdy frame easily and plopped him on the table.  The Autobot was pushed down, forcing him prone on the flat surface, legs splayed. 

The near frantic Decepticon crawled over him and shoved his spike back in, then growled, “OPEN!”

Still confused, Ratchet obeyed. 

Shockwave’s plates parted and he ground their heated frames together in a shower of sparks.

The merge was spectacular and horrible.

Shockwave felt emotions pouring out of Ratchet’s spark. 

There was deep, nearly unendurable pain as the medic had watched Autobots die on the table, injured too badly for even his skills to save them.  Or worse, ones that could have been saved, but they were out of whatever was needed to heal them.  The lack of basic medical supplies had taken so many sparks…

He also saw beautiful nights curled up with the Prime after a long, satisfying round of heated interfacing. 

Ratchet loved Optimus.  And only a blind mech would not see that Optimus loved Ratchet.

Shockwave was a little surprised that he felt a little jealous at the revelation.

Worse, the Scientist soon found himself being assaulted by not only Ratchet’s deepest, most hidden feelings, but his own. 

It was a very rude awakening.  Senator Shockwave had not died when the Empurata was completed.  He was only sleeping.

Senator Shockwave had been a passionate mech. 

The merge was flooded with memories of heated debates with colleagues in the Council.  Laughing with friends.  Long, sweet nights with lovers.

Things he had thought dead and buried once his processor had been violated.

Somewhere in the distance the Decepticon heard Ratchet cry out in extasy as his valve clamped down, pulling Shockwave into overload with him.

Shockwave gasped.  He felt the moment that the sparkling came into being between them.  This was utterly fascinating.    A new spark had been formed by the merging of their energies.

 He had sired a sparkling.

Warmth filled his being at the thought and protector protocols that he assumed were removed flared.  None of his experiments could match the satisfaction that he felt when he touched the surprisingly powerful presence coalescing between he and Ratchet.   

 

Ratchet’s processor was still extremely fuzzy as he came down from multiple overloads.  He was unsure as to why Shockwave was stroking his back struts.

He found himself looking down at that single unblinking optic.  “Come,” Shockwave said softly.  Without another word he eased Ratchet off his frame. (And spike.)   He then drew the still slightly confused bot to his peds and guided him towards a door.

Not the one that had been pointed out to him before.

It opened to a large, surprisingly comfortable berth room.  This could not be the room Shockwave was giving to him.

The Autobot blinked, was this the Decepticon’s quarters?  Shockwave very gently laid him down on the berth and crawled in beside him.

“Did I miss something?” asked Ratchet, still a little dazed. 

“Your input is not required, only your presence,” Shockwave informed him, pulling him against his chest plate.  His servos were stroking the medic’s sleek frame possessively. 

Ratchet was completely confused, but at least he was being allowed to fall into recharge in the luxurious berth.  He was not going to question his good fortune. 

As confused as he was, Ratchet did feel the presence in his chamber.  It was quite strong for being newly formed.

Shockwave’s servo brushed his abdominal plating possessively.  “Sleep now, Ratchet.”

The voice was soft, and surprisingly gentle.  As if Shockwave was having an emotional reaction to becoming a sire.

Ratchet sighed and dismissed the thought with a shrug.  ‘Must be my imagination.’

 

To be continued.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Breakdown and Knock Out decide to share their new toys.


	4. Knock Out/Arcee, Breakdown/Bulkhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pairings pretty much says it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings. Sticky Sex, Fingering, Spark Merge, Past Character Deaths
> 
> I do not own the Transformers etc. and any mistakes are my own.

The fact that Arcee and Bulkhead were together in their captivity was not comforting.  The fact that they were going to be forced to interface in the same room somehow makes it worse.

 

Knock Out bowed Arcee into the quarters he shared with Breakdown.  “Welcome to your new home, Arcee,” he said cordially.  

The Two-wheeler remained silent as she stepped inside.  Her only concession to her master was to try not to cringe as he patted her aft.  At least the Decepticon medic was not roughly groping her the way Breakdown was her friend.

 

Bulkhead stumbled, while being dragged forward by his leash towards the berth.  “Stop fighting,” grumbled Breakdown, giving the leash a hard tug that brought the Autobot to his knees.

The green mech was not fighting. He was completely passive.   The problem was that his legs were short for his size so he could not move quickly enough for his captor. 

Smirking, Breakdown shoved Bulkhead from behind, putting the Wrecker on his knee joints.  “Open your panel,” he ordered, positioning himself behind Bulkhead.

Without making a sound, the green mech complied.

His lack of response did dampen Breakdown’s enthusiasm a little. 

At least the Decepticon did not just take him without preparation.  He liberally used the lubricant his partner had made and did not just ram his spike in. 

The stuff did its work well.   Soon the green Autobot was moaning loudly while Breakdown fingered his valve.  The Decepticon smirked, leaning close.  “You like it mech-animal style?”  Bulkhead did not answer, just pushed back against the fingers, spurred on by the chemicals.

 

Knock Out was enjoying the show while once again groping Arcee’s aft.  This was probably intended to arouse her. 

It did not work.

 Arcee shuttered her optics as she heard Bulkhead begin to react to the touch and lubricant. 

The two-wheeler shuddered when she heard her friend’s plaintive whimpers. 

Knock Out felt her field spike.  He turned her around to face him.  “Come no, Arcee, it’s not that bad.”

“You are disgusting,” she snarled, still trying to shut out the sounds of interfacing behind her.  “You won.  Just get it over with.” 

“Well, aren’t you romantic,” drawled Knock Out.  Arcee’s face plate was a mask of revulsion as the femme remained sullenly silent.  “Fine, just lay back on the berth.  This little tube will make sure you enjoy it.”

“Whatever,” she grumbled.  Stiffly, she crawled onto the large berth and flopped down on her back.  Shuttering her optics, she opened her interface panel and did her best to ignore him.

“This will adjust that bad attitude of yours,” assured the red Con. 

Arcee opened her thighs wider, turned her helm, optics tightly shuttered.  She berated herself for trembling but remained stoically silent. 

Until she felt the cool lubricant touched her valve lips.  The chemical worked quickly.  Heat surged through her frame, and she soon moved against his fingers.  It felt good.  Much better than it should have under the circumstances.

Eventually, Arcee lost herself to the pleasure.  Unable to fight it, she just let it happen.

His spike felt wonderful, hitting her ceiling nodes repeatedly.

Arcee felt a twinge of guilt at all of this.  The femme had not interfaced since her partner Cliffjumper had been killed by Starscream. 

Even as her valve tightened around Knock Out’s spike, tears flowed freely. 

Knock Out brushed over her chest plates.  “Open up, Arcee. Time to get sparked.”

Her chest plates opened.  Even under the influence of the lubricant she still refused to look at him.  When their sparks met, the Two-wheeler all but screamed with a mix of anger, grief and pleasure.

 

Knock Out gasped as he felt the femme’s feelings wash over him.  Yes, he knew she did not want this, but the rage that pulsed into him at what was being done to her and the other Autobots almost forced him to break the connection.

Never had he felt anything that made him feel so intensely uncomfortable.  The very unfamiliar emotion of shame tried to push its way into his spark.

Arcee would literally rather die than be in his berth. 

She was doing this only because of her loyalty to her friends.  The femme hoped that she would be able to help them somehow.  If not to escape, then at least to make their lives more bearable. 

The influence of Optimus Prime no doubt.  Autobots were so ridiculously self-sacrificing.  The red mech would never understand them. 

Then he was hit with another powerful thought/emotion.  Arcee was determined to have some influence on any sparklings they created.  To try and keep them from turning into Decepticons. 

Seeing just what she thought of him and Breakdown was one of the most shocking things Knock Out had ever seen.  He never really considered how they were perceived by the Autobots.  He had never even thought about it, let alone cared.

But Arcee did not even consider them Cybertronians.  To her they were all monsters that needed to be eradicated.  As expected, the circumstances they were in now only reinforced this.

It was difficult to keep contact with a spark that exuded so much hatred and downright contempt.

 

Arcee was surprised to receive the Con Medic’s innermost feelings.  She was not prepared for what she felt from the vain red mech.  For one thing, he had no animosity towards her, or any Autobots for that matter.  And he was almost giddy at the prospect of he and Breakdown being able to create sparklings.

He wanted very much to be a sire and have a lot of bitlets.

Who would have guessed?

This side of him clashed very hard with her feelings about Decepticons in general.

And the next wave of emotions made it even more confusing.  Knock Out and Breakdown were in love.  She had a hard time wrapping her processor around that.  Decepticons caring for one another.  The very concept was completely alien to her.

Arcee did not want to know that. 

How could she hold onto her hatred if the Decepticons were not just a gang of murderous fiends? 

The Autobot was relieved when the merge ended and felt just a bit of petty glee when she did not feel her gestational chamber stir.

 

Knock Out was so relieved when the connection broke that he barely noticed the absence of a new spark.  His processor was too caught up with the problems foresaw with the femme.  It was going to be hard to merge with her again if he could not find some way to convince her that he and the Decepticons were not monsters.

This relationship was going to take a lot of work.

 

Breakdown felt his contempt he held for the other former Wrecker evaporate instantly as their sparks merged. 

He expected hatred.  After all, they had once been comrades.  Friends.  He and Bulkhead were part of the first group of Wreckers.  Trained by the much respected Ironhide himself. 

What he felt from the green mech was sadness. 

And pity.

Shock pulsed from the Decepticon when he realized that Bulkhead thought of him as a coward.  He could think of no other reason for him to abandon his comrades and defect to the Decepticons. 

Then he was forced to watch many mechs that he had once considered Brothers fall at the hands of Decepticons.  Some overwhelmed by Eradicons, others deactivated from Cybonbic Plague.  Others were cut down by Megatron himself.

And then he saw a memory he himself had, but from another point of view.

He saw himself firing from cover, just behind Overlord on an energon soaked battlefield.  He had vaguely recalled seeing Bulkhead fighting a short distance away but was not able to get close enough to engage him. 

The Decepticon recalled feeling sickened as Overlord crushed the helm of an Autobot.   As a former Wrecker and Decepticon front liner he was used to violence and death even before changing sides.  However, that death had stood out above all the others because of the sadistic pleasure Overlord took in throwing his sparking processor over his shoulder. 

Breakdown had to duck, or he would have been hit square in the optics by it. 

That battle was the one time that he seriously wondered if he had chosen the wrong side.

He had not really gotten a good look at the unfortunate Autobot before he was mangled by the manically laughing Phase-Sixer.

Bulkhead had a perfect view of the death of their mutual friend Crosshairs.

He had once been Breakdown’s best friend and even sometimes lover before he defected to the Decepticons.  

A pang of sadness welled in his spark.   It had happened so fast; Breakdown did not even realize who it was.  So many deaths had almost numbed him to the horrors that were taking place all around him.  Or that another friend, Gears, had been stomped into a lump of unidentifiable metal by Overlord just a few seconds later.

Yes, he had left the Wreckers, but these mechs had been his friends.  For the first time since turning his back on the Autobots, Breakdown felt just a little guilt and worse, regret.

 

Bulkhead was hit by a wave of confused feelings as they merged.

The strongest was love and utter devotion for Knock Out.  Breakdown put the (admittedly) sexy mech onto a pedestal.

The red Decepticon was one of the main reasons Breakdown defected.

He saw how the unlikely pair had met.  Purely by accident.  At the end of a brutal battle, the mechs had dove into an abandoned house as a deluge of acid rain began to fall.

Quickly realizing, even through the thick mud, that covered them both that they were on opposite sides, weapons were immediately drawn.

But the two tired mechs quickly realized that they did not want to fight.  “The rain is likely not going to let up until morning, so we aren’t going everywhwer,” said the Decepticon.  “I’ll lower my weapon if you will, tall, dark and handsome.”

Breakdown just shrugged.  (He was not sure someone completely covered in mud and energon could be considered handsome, but he did not argue the point.)  Now, Knock Out although there was some mud and dirt on him, looked fragging amazing. 

By mutual consent the Autobot and Decepticon decided that since the battle was over and their respective factions had withdrawn, neither of them had any reason to kill the other.   They sat comfortably in the small shelter and rested.

Weary at first, very quickly Knock Out’s outgoing exuberant nature won out and he started talking to the blue Autobot.  Besides, he had a lot of cleaning cloths in his subspace, which he was willing to share. 

Eventually, cleaner and more comfortable, Breakdown felt relaxed enough to admitted that he had some high grade stashed in his sub-space.

After sharing a few drinks, things became… much more friendly.

Bulkhead blushed, experiencing the echoes of their passion.

It was not just that amazing interface session that had persuaded the blue mech defect.  (Knock Out was extremely skilled.)  However, it certain made the prospect of joining the Decepticons a lot more appealing.

Most of the rest of his memories were little more than a jumble of unconnected images.  None had the power and focus behind that encounter.

Eventually their sparks parted and the two mechs were left panting.

 

After a moment, Breakdown looked to his partner.  “Is something wrong?  I did not feel a new spark being conceived,” he said with some concern.  “I know a sparkling does not form every time, but I felt… nothing.”

“Same here,” admitted Knock Out.  He pulled out a scanner and ran it over the now recharging Arcee.  His optics widened as he looked at the readings.

Quickly the red con scooted off the berth to scan Bulkhead.  The barely conscious Autobot just looked at him dully.

The red speedster’s intake dropped as he read the results for the fifth time.

Leaning dejectedly against his lover Knock Out sighed. “Megatron is going to be pissed.”

  

To be continued.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Megatron is pissed.


	5. Reaping what you sow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron finds out that there is an obstacle to his plans to breed the Autobots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Sticky Sex, Oral, Anal, Jerk Megatron
> 
> I do not own the Transformers etc and any mistakes are my own.

Morning: Megatron’s quarters. 

Both the Tyrant and his new berth slave/carrier had been in recharge for the last few hours.   

Megatron had waited a very long to have Optimus in his berth, so he had a lot of fantasies that he had been eager to reenact.    

To fulfill them, Optimus allowed himself to be taken in a variety of positions.  Some were more comfortable and/or pleasurable than others.

Fortunately, there was only one that he really could have done without. 

The Prime loved large spikes, and had been very adventurous with his lovers.  However, he was not particularly fond of taking a spike up the aft. 

He did not mind the act itself.  This was hardly the first time, and if his partner wished it, he was more than willing to oblige.  However, the gray mech was so excited to finally have him he was not very careful about preparation.

The Prime stoically endured the slightly uncomfortable part of their coupling without complaint. As he did

Fortunately, the Warlord seemed to only want to frag him like that as a show of dominance.  Just something he had fantasized about and wanted to tick off his list.  (Optimus was sure he had a list.) 

After a rough session against the wall, Megatron’s attention never strayed far from the Autobot’s valve.  

Admittedly, the rest of their interfacing would have been extremely enjoyable for the Autobot, had it been completely consensual.  His foe was very capable of giving pleasure when he wanted to.   And he did want to.

The warlord took a great deal of satisfaction in overloading the former Prime five times in rapid succession.  Megatron seemed determined to frag him into recharge.

Which he eventually did.

The Tyrant had been disappointed that Optimus slipped into unconsciousness.  Megatron was up for another round or three, but the utterly exhausted Optimus dropped off halfway through round six and would not wake.  

The Prime had not even stirred when Megatron overloaded that last time into his limp chassis.   Not a very satisfying finish to the night’s activities.

Even so, the warlord loved finally having Optimus in his arms.  It was his fantasy come true.

Megatron had fallen in love with the lovely little archivist the moment he walked into the Gladiator Pit.  He was so beautiful and innocent.  His dream had been to make that lovely mech as his bond mate.

Orion’s betrayal at the meeting with the Council had devastated the Decepticon.  To be rejected like that.  To have the one that he loved take what was rightfully his, the title of Prime.  He would never admit it to anyone, but it broke his spark. 

His attack on the Council Chamber not long after had been revenge for his humiliation and pain.

The merge had shown him much that was both painful and comforting at the same time.  Optimus and Orion Pax were not the same mech.  He could feel Orion when they merged.  His gentle presence was there, like an echo, or a ghost. 

It was a strangely comforting thought, that the mech that fought him for so long was not Orion.

Optimus Prime was a completely different being.  Elements of his friend still existed within that frame and the two entities did overlap, but he was not Orion. 

The merge gave him other insights as well.  Optimus felt ashamed of his attraction to Megatron.  Which was part of what he got from Orion.  Whenever he touched himself it was not Ratchet, or to his surprise, Prime’s lovers Ultra Magnus and Ironhide, that made him moan and touch himself. 

He pleasured himself to thoughts of his greatest enemy.

 The Decepticon was shocked at just how strong his foe’s desire and Orion’s love were.  So strong that it kept Optimus from striking the killing blow many times.    

All of this made finally claiming the mech as his own so much sweeter.

 

When Megatron came out of recharge in the morning his servo immediately reached out for Optimus.  To his dismay he quickly realized he was short one Prime.  This was annoying.  He had wanted to be able to slide his spike right into his slave’s valve without having to search the berth for him. 

Optimus had rolled away from him in his recharge and was curled up on the edge of the berth.

Megatron frowned.  He was really aroused and intended for his reluctant berth warmer to do his job.  Warm the berth! 

The grumpy warlord was reaching out to pull Optimus to him when he received an urgent com.

‘Lord Megatron, I apologies if I am… uh… interrupting anything important, but you need to bring Optimus to the med bay as soon as you can,’ said Knockout apologetically.

Megatron grated out a single word.  ‘Why?’

_‘I need to scan him so I will be able to let you know if your sparkling can survive.’_

 

Several moments later Megatron stormed into the med bay, dragging a groggy Optimus behind him by his leash.  After Knock Out’s startling message, he was not surprised to see all the Autobots and their masters, except Ratchet and Shockwave waiting for him. 

Soundwave was at Bumblebee’s side, petting his helm gently while Lazorbeak sat on the other side, nuzzling him and letting out a low, soothing chirp.  The little yellow mech seemed comforted by the touch. 

Breakdown waited anxiously beside the berth where Bulkhead sat beside Arcee.  He did not touch the former Wrecker.  He knew it would not be welcome.  And strangely enough, the Decepticon Grounder cared about that.  It seems that their merge had completely changed his attitude towards the big green mech. 

The enjoyment he had felt at the Autobots’ plight was gone.  In its place was a deep sadness.  

Both of the Autobot warriors were huddled together, slumped and sullen.

It was a good thing that the Nemesis med bay was very large.

Megatron was in full ‘Thoroughly Pissed Off Warlord’ mode as he growled. “Knock Out, explain to me what the slag is going on?”

“We were more effective than we realized in keeping the Autobots from finding a steady supply of energon,” said the medic as he scanned Optimus.  “Prime, when the last time any of your tanks were over thirty percent full?”

“At least four months ago,” admitted Optimus without hesitation.

“Primus, your tanks have been that low for three months?” gasped Megatron, shocked.  No wonder his former foe had so little stamina. Still he could hardly believe it.  Even the worst of the slave masters in the mines kept their tanks close to sixty percent so they could get a decent cycle’s work out of them.  He looked down at Knock Out. “How the Pit did they continue to fight?”

“My guess, sheer Cyber-bull headedness,” answered Knock Out.  “They are starving.  Honestly, a few more weeks of this and we would have won the war by default.  The Autobots would have started dropping into stasis lock.  As you might expect, this derivation has adversely affected their frames.  Arcee’s gestational chamber came online when we merged but it is unable to support a new spark.  The same is true for Bumblebee.  Bulkhead’s reproductive system did not even try to come one.  It looks like there may be the beginnings of necrosis in his gestational chamber.”

Megatron looked absolutely flabbergasted.  He took hold of Optimus’s chin to force the Prime to look him in the optics.  “I knew you were stubborn, Optimus, but you were really willing to throw away your Autobots’ function just to stop me?”

Piercing blue optics met his. “We all agreed that stopping you was worth the price.  My only regret is that I failed to end your tyranny.”

Megatron was hard pressed not to slap the mech silly.  “Optimus Prime, your arrogance is unbelievable.  I defeated you and your soldiers, took you as my berth slave, and you are still insufferable self-righteous,” sighed the warlord. 

With a shake of his helm Megatron returned his attention to his medic.  “What about the other Autobots?”

“Shockwave reported that Ratchet is sparked.  They are on their way now so I can check him out.  My guess is that his condition is better than the others because he was not using his energy up by fighting as the rest of them did.” He then pointed to Smokescreen.  “The youngling there is carrying one bitlet, which is doing extremely well.  According to Smokescreen he had been receiving adequate rations before he arrived on Earth a few weeks ago.  He is in very good shape compared to the others.”

Starscream smiled and wrapped an arm around Smokescreen’s shoulder possessively.

The younger mech was surprised, but only for a moment.  He relaxed against the Seeker’s side.

Knock Out shook his helm as he ran a scanner over the former Prime.  “This is a surprise as depleted as his energon reserves are.  Optimus is carrying two sparklings and they are very strong.”  He continued reading the scanner, then frowned.  “But that is only because he consciously shut down several non-essential systems to keep them fully supplied.”

Megatron grabbed Optimus by the scruff of the neck.  “You are an Idiot, Optimus.   You deprive yourself of fuel for sparklings you do not even want.  Primus.  I told you that by the law of the Compact we are obligated to provide you with fuel.  Why did you not just tell me that your tanks were so low?”

“We were given a full cube while we waited for our T-cogs to be removed.  That is more than we have had in a very long time.  We thought that was all the ration you would spare for us.”

Now he understood why the Autobots’ colors were so dull.  He thought them depressed over their captivity.  Strong negative emotions can adversely affect color nanites.  The way they fought, he never dreamed they were so near to starving.

“Why did you not discover this when they were brought in?” asked Starscream.

“Honestly my Lord, none of them were injured, so I did not do any deep scans on them,” admitted the Aston Martin.  “Besides, we were all very anxious to claim them.  And you did order me to hurry up and get them ready.”

“Primus. Knock Out, will Arcee, Bulkhead and Bumblebee be able to conceive eventually?” asked Megatron, clearly frustrated at this sudden unexpected turn of events. 

“I honestly cannot say for sure.  What I will say that we should not even try to spark them until we can get them functioning optimally.  They need time and a lot of energon to build up their strength so they will have a chance of being able to carry.  Even then, I honestly do not know if Bulkhead will ever be able to conceive.   With your permission I would like to have Ratchet work with me,” Knockout said, as he started handing out medical grade energon to the listless Autobots.  “He is a fully trained doctor.  I am just a combat medic.  According to his prewar records, Ratchet has extensive experience with sparked mechs and sparklings.”

“Then he will be at your disposal,” said Megatron.

 

A few moments later the last two mechs entered.  Ratchet was surprisingly quiet when they arrived.  Shockwave stood behind him with a possessive servo on his back struts.  The real shock was that the medic did not flinch from the touch.

He leaned into it.

No one from either faction commented on his odd behavior.

“I am going to give you a complete and thorough scan, Ratchet,” Knock Out said as he started taking readings.  He looked up at Megatron.  “Ratchet is definitely in better shape than any of them except Smokescreen,” he noted, looking at the readings.  “Two healthy bitlets.  Congratulations Shockwave.”

“Congratulations are unnecessary.  However, it is gratifying to know that they are healthy,” noted the purple mech.  Even with his emotionless voice, it was apparent that he was genuinely pleased.

“Yes,” the medic nodded.  “You are quite lucky.  Half the Autobots are unable to conceive.”

“I could have told you that would happen,” Ratchet informed him.

“And you did not mention it, why?” Knock Out inquired angrily.

The Autobot’s annoyed look screamed, ‘Seriously?’

Ratchet’s servos went to his hips as he stepped forward to metaphorically took charge of the med bay.  “I saw no reason to.  This is being forced on us, remember?”

To the surprise of both medics, Shockwave placed a gentle servo on Ratchet’s shoulder.  “You did not want this, but I know your spark.  You will care for the sparklings.”

Looking back at his master, Ratchet nodded.  “I have taken a medical oath to care for my patients to the best of my ability.  I will not deliberately cause anybot harm.  Or allow them to be harmed by my inaction.  Especially not sparklings.”  Shockwave stroked his helm gently.  The pulses from the scientist’s field made Ratchet him shiver.

The easy, comfortable interactions between them was surprising.

“Good to hear,” Knock Out admitted, clearly relieved that Ratchet intended to cooperate.  “First let me download my reading from Bulkhead.  He looks to be in the worst shape.”

Ratchet analyzed the data.  “He is.  I did what I could for all of us while we were unable to obtain a steady supply of energon.  Unfortunately, because of his frame size and power requirements the lack of fuel took a heavy toll on him.  However, that is scar tissue in his chamber, not necrosis,” noted the Autobot.  “Even so, between damage and deprivation, it is very possible that Bulkhead will never be able to carry.”

Knock Out took Breakdown’s servo, feeling his partner’s distress.  “We will do everything we can,” he assured.

“Why bother.  I don’t want sparklings,” said Bulkhead.

“None of us do,” Arcee grumbled.  She looked at Bumblebee.  There was a little sadness in his optics as he let Lazerbeak rub his cheek against the young mech’s chest plate.  The femme could not even be angry that he did not join them in voicing their desire not to carry. The young mech said nothing, but she could tell that the merge with Soundwave must have affected him deeply. 

With a sigh she turned her gaze to Knock Out.  “I am willing to concede that you are not as bad as I thought,” she almost chocked admitting this.  She had been shocked that the merge proved that the Decepticon medic was just a mech, not a monster.  Sparks did not lie. 

Still she could not accept the situation, or her intended part in it.  “But I do not understand how any of you could even want sparklings?  None of us have ever carried or been caregivers.  Raising new sparks is a lot of work, and you cannot expect us to do everything.”

“We do understand that,” assured Knock Out.  “More than you know.  But now that the war is over, we need sparklings to bring our people back from the brink of extinction.  Breakdown and I really want to have sparklings.  And we will love and care for them.”

“We need sparklings from all of you.  Besides, it is your duty to help repopulate our planet if you are physically able,” rumbled Megatron. 

“Our duty?  Why do you place this burden on us, Megaton? Have you forgotten that it was you that declared war on the rest of Cybertron? Or that you are the one that slaughtered most of our population?” Optimus reminded him.

Megatron turned on him, seething.  “The state of our world is not my fault!  You are the one that continued to fight even though you had no chance to win, Prime!  You refused to surrender at the beginning of the war, when I offered very generous terms, I might add.   It is your hubris that has brought our people to the brink of extinction.”

The Autobots all looked stunned.  “You believe that because we refused to surrender to you, we are responsible for all of the death and destruction you and your Decepticons caused?”  Optimus looked up at his rival.  After a long moment, he looked up at the Tyrant.  “I think I finally understand you now, Megatron.”

After a moment of staring Megatron frowned.  “Well, Optimus, please, do share your epiphany.”

Optimus looked him square in the optics.  “Your ego is so immense that you cannot conceive of anyone actually having a valid argument against your right to rule.  The fact that you butchered millions of innocent people does not trouble you in the least, because nothing is more important than being able to proclaim that you were right.”

“You still have one trait in common with Orion Pax.  You have to place everyone in an easily definable category.  If you place me in the evil villain category it is so much easier for you to feel superior and revel in your perceived martyrdom,” countered Megatron looming over the Autobot, jerking his leash, causing Optimus to fall to his roughly knees.  “And that is even harder when you are on your back begging for my spike!”

The two mechs glared at one another, until Ratchet grabbed Megatron’s arm.  His servo twisted the Decepticon’s painfully as he snarls, “If you want those sparklings you sired functional, back off!”

The warlord’s intake dropped open at the audacity of the medic. 

Mostly because he refused to back down from the mech that was easily twice his mass.  “Optimus is half starved and his health is a lot more fragile than you seem to realize.  Any rough treatment could cause him to lose the new sparks.”

Taking a step back, Megatron turned his glare on Knock Out, who just nodded meekly. 

“From what I have seen, Ratchet is correct.  We must all be very careful with our Autobots for the sake of the sparklings, Lord Megatron,” Shockwave confirmed.

Megatron growled but released the leash and backed up.  Ratchet helped Optimus to his peds.

“I am making a batch of enriched medical grade energon.” He handed Ratchet a data pad.  “I used a formula from some medical texts on sparked mechs.  I will have a cube for each of you.”

Ratchet scanned the cube.   “Not a bad start, but this will not be enough.  This formula is for mechs that healthy and have had a normal diet.  As malnourished as all of us are, you will need to up the amount of Cybertonium, magnesium and cadmium by five percent for those of us that are sparked.  Ten percent for Arcee and Bumblebee. Bulkhead will likely need closer to twenty percent more Cybertronium.  They will need five cubes.  Smokescreen and I will need three cubes of the enhanced energon every day for the duration of the gestation.  Optimus will need four because of his size.”

“Why not mix them all the same?” inquired Knock Out.

“Cybertonium is an essential part of our diet, but too much of it at once can upset the tanks of sparked mechs.  With the shape we are in, the last thing we need is any of us purging.”

“Ratchet, would it help to double filter the energon and introduce some flavor additives, such as copper to the mixture?  It will not lessen the effectiveness of the mixture and the taste should be more palatable.  Filtration should also make it less likely to cause nausea,” noted Shockwave.

“That might work,” said Ratchet thoughtfully.  “Once Knock Out and I are done with everyone’s exams we can experiment to find the best formula.” 

The other Autobots are not surprised at how quickly Ratchet had slipped into the role of maternity medic in these strange circumstances.  The Decepticons, other than Shockwave were.   But then, Ratchet was a healer.  The circumstances did not matter.  He would care for his patients. 

 

Once all the Autobots had been given their first cube enhanced energon and the rest were prepared and in their mater’s subspaces, the Decepticons took them back to their quarters.

Megatron was still slightly annoyed at the entire situation, and very annoyed at Optimus.  The mech was still trying to act superior, but the warlord was not fuming any longer.  “You are the most infuriating mech I have ever known, Optimus Prime,” he grumbled, motioning Optimus to sit down on the berth.

“Then you truly do not know yourself,” countered the Prime blandly.

His delivery was so dry, it took a second for Megatron to realize he was being insulted.  But Instead of becoming angry, as the red and blue mech expected, he just looked puzzled.

“It is strange that most of our mechs seems to have begun to come to an understanding.  Even your little two-wheeler.  Yet you and I seem farther apart than ever.”

“My guess would be that during their merges they were able to discover that those they thought of as monsters or fanatics are not so different from themselves.  You and I were once close. Our merge did little more than confirm what we already knew.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Megatron with a smirk.  “I could feel you attempting to hide several things, but I did find out just how much you love large spikes.  And always had from the things I witnessed.  I never would have thought Ultra Magnus or Ironhide could be so kinky.  Or large…  Perhaps one day I can see for myself.”  Optimus looked horrified.   “I wish I had known back then what a horny little thing you were, I would have tried harder to seduce you.”

Optimus felt a tremor of fear looking into those red optics.  He had tried to keep as much as he could hidden, especially about his private life.  Obviously, that had failed.

During their merge, he had seen much of his rival’s desires.  Megatron had reveled in showing them to him.  And to his shame, Megatron had seen many of his own experiences, and fantasies.

Optimus said nothing as Megatron moved closer and nudged his thighs open. 

Still silent, the Autobot leaned back, opening his interface panel.  What his master wanted was obvious.  There was no way to avoid it.

Besides, he did not want to avoid it.  His chassis was craving the other mech’s touch.  His cyber-pheromones were already affecting his interface drive. The warlord could probably smell his arousal.  The moment he was alone with Megatron his valve clenched and began to lubricate.

Shame filled him as he recalled one that he had almost forgotten about, since it had begun in the processor of Orion Pax.  And that part of his life is sometimes so faint as to feel like a half-forgotten dream.

The innocent little Archivist had pleasured himself, thinking of Megatron.  Along with his size kink and love of double penetration, which he had failed to keep from the Tyrant, he found himself extremely aroused by the thought of the Gladiator sucking his spike.  It was not so much a danger kink, although it was a factor.  It was more the thought of Megatron being so amazingly careful with those Sharkticon like teeth.  The thought that someone so powerful would make an effort to be gentle with him that he found amazingly arousing.

Optimus gasped as, just like his fantasy, Megatron dropped to his knees and began to lick his spike. Then after flashing his sharpened teeth, he deep throated it.

The Prime bucked his hips, hands on his enemy’s helm.  The Decepticon allowed it, sucking harder on the delicious spike and pushing two fingers into his valve.  

Their mutual desire fed off each other.  After the merge, the Prime knew that Megatron had a bit of a kink of his own.  He liked sucking large spikes. The Tyrant enjoyed the way they felt, stretching his intake.  The bigger the better.  He also enjoyed the taste of transfluids.

While he sucked, his large fingers flexed inside the other mechs’ still very tight valve.  Soon he was rewarded by a broken moan, that spike ramming deep and several spurts of luscious liquid into his intake.

He continued to finger Prime’s valve while he milked the softening spike.

“Servos and knee joints, Optimus,” he ordered, stroking his spike. 

And to make it better, Optimus was enjoying what was being done to him and making the most amazing moans and whimpers. “You love this,” he hissed, increasing his pace.

The Autobot was too carried away by pleasure to be angry, offended or embarrassed at just how much noise he was making.  Why did he have to be so sensitive that deep in his valve?  It was impossible to keep himself from overloading once Megatron nipped his neck cables.

It was so intense he blacked out for several moments.  

When his optics opened, he was greeted by the smugly smiling face of Megatron looking down at him. 

“It was not only Orion. You have wanted me since the day the Matrix created you.”

 “And I was able to resist my desires,” countered the Autobot.

“You were afraid,” said Megatron. 

“Yes.”

“You still are,” the Decepticon shook his helm.  “I saw that also when we merged.  You are terrified that you will not be able to keep your precious detachment.  I affect you. Make you feel lust and because Orion is still within your spark, love.  My little archivist was too strong for that thing in your chest to destroy him.   Oh, it tried, but he was so vibrant and alive. The Matrix tried to smother him to give you his body, but it could not.”

“I know that if the action would not deactivate this frame you would rip it from my chest.”

“Part of me wanted to hate you for taking him away from me, but I cannot.  It was not you, Optimus.  You had no choice in this.  In a very real way, you were an innocent in all of this.  As much a victim as Orion.  Your existence was forced into being by the Matrix.  And now you are all that is left of the mech I love.  Perhaps you will never come to love me as he did, Optimus Prime.”  Megatron pulled him close, his field almost serene.  “But I know you, now much better than before.  Bearing my sparklings will soften your spark towards me.”

Prime looked away because he knew it was true.  He was already beginning to have trouble holding his anger at Megatron.    And, he could feel the sparklings love for him and for their sire. 

The warlord smiled, looking down at him.  “By the time our mechlings emerge, you will accept me.  For now, my love for you and your need for me will have to suffice.”

 

 To be continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter. How do the Autobots and Decepticons cope?


	6. Coping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Autobots and Decepticons are trying to cope, some methods may be healthier than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Sticky Sex, Spark Sex, Oral, Angry Sex
> 
> I do not own The Transformers etc and any mistakes are my own.

Soundwave walked silently behind Bumblebee down the long corridor on their way to the Decepticon’s quarters.

The young mech was in a daze from the whirlwind of events.  The Autobots had been running on whatever energon they could find or steal and adrenaline for months now.  His systems had become used to being stressed.  But things had changed drastically.  There would be no more battles, ever.  Since he suddenly no longer found himself in constant danger the adrenaline had shut down. 

At first, he felt nothing as his chassis relaxed.  Something he had rarely done in the past few months.  But once the numbness wore off, it was replaced by fear and confusion. 

Bumblebee always had complete faith in Optimus.  He never doubted that the Autobots were right and that eventually they would win.

Bee was completely overwhelmed.  He was cut off from his support. The surrogate family he had been with for so long were now captives themselves and could not offer him comfort.

His spark craved contact, reassurance.  And there was now only one source open to him.

Bumblebee soon found himself slowing slightly so that the silent mech edged closer and he could feel the Decepticon’s field better.   It was so warm and comforting.  Although, the young mech was a little concerned his master might become impatient.  Instead the larger form moved slowly closer until the Autobot found himself leaning against his side.  

His optics beginning to dim with fatigue.  

Soundwave’s field was extended to constantly envelope young yellow mech.  Unlike the other Decepticons, he had already formed a tentative bond with his Autobot. 

He could not help it.  Bumblebee’s spark felt like a symbiot’s.  He was so young and innocent, but with a hidden mischievous streak.  (Which Soundwave intended to encourage.)

The comparatively small mech reminded him a lot of Rumble and Frenzy.

Primus, he missed those little troublemakers.  The twins and Ravage had been lost long ago in battle. 

The war had taken so much from them all.

Bumblebee was a little distracted.   He continued to walk a couple of steps past Soundwave’s quarters, not realizing the other mech had stopped.  The yellow Autobot froze suddenly realizing that he was not touching that warm secure field.  A long slender servo closed gently on his shoulder.  “This way,” a Vehicon’s voice came from the Dock.

Blinking, the smaller mech nodded, realizing that he had been zoning.  Embarrassed, he allowed himself to be steered towards the door.  When it opened, Laserbeak swooped inside before them and landed gracefully on his perch.  He chirped cheerfully at Bumblebee.

The young Autobot smiled just a little and chirped back.  He was still a little afraid, but the presence of the smaller mech helped to comfort him.  The bird-former used his field to send reassurance and genuine affection to the Autobot.   

Soundwave moved passed Bumblebee and stopped beside the berth.   His long slender servo reached out and he patted the berth invitingly.   “You need to rest,” Knock Out‘s voice said gently.  The Autobot nodded. 

That berth looked so soft and comfortable, it looked like the Well of Allsparks to those dim blue optics.  Bee was both physically and mentally exhausted and recharging for the next week sounded like a very good idea. Still, he was broadcasting his nervousness as he looked up at Soundwave. 

Bumblebee’s field felt as if he was waiting for something.  And dreading it.

With a sigh, Soundwave realized exactly what the problem was.  He reached out and touched the young mech’s cheek.  The Dock used Knock Out’s voice again. “You need to rest.”  Then he pulled up another clip from the medic.  “Not tonight, you need your beauty sleep.”   Bumblebee beeped in surprise at the words.  He then started to make an odd little noise and his field suddenly changed. 

The young mech had been so tense and the quote was so out of left field that the Autobot almost collapsed into a fit of laughter.  Soundwave was pleased that he could put Bumblebee at ease.  Besides, he had no intention of attempting to spark his mate until he was healthy enough to carry. 

Nor would he initiate an interface with him.

Soundwave would let Bumblebee come to him when he was ready for more intimate touches.  For now he would keep any physical contact to gentle, supportive, comforting touches.   His empathy and their earlier merge told him that the young mech had enjoyed what they did, even if he was embarrassed by those feelings.

The silent mech knew that his young mate would come around quickly. He would not need to mentally push or manipulate Bee.  Once the Autobot was more comfortable he would want to interface again.  

But even when that came to pass, he would not merge with his mate again until Knock Out and Ratchet confirmed that he could safely carry. 

Technically because Megatron invoked the Compact, Bumblebee and the other Autobots were property. Slaves.  Soundwave did not like the idea at all.  The Decepticons were supposed to be better than the Mechs that enslaved them.  But Megatron had decided that this course was necessary, and Soundwave would never question his lord’s judgement.

Still, he could not think of the sweet yellow mech as just a possession.  Certainly not while feeling his spark through their strengthening bond.

Sleepy blue optics looked down as Bee nodded timidly.   He lay on the berth, curling up on his side.  Laserbeak fluttered down beside him and snuggled up against his chest plate. The young Autobot’s arms wrapped around the bird-former, holding him close like a human child’s teddy bear.

Soundwave moved slowly so as not to startle him.  The yellow mech stiffened as Soundwave lay down behind him.  The slim blue mech spooned against his back plates and lay a slender arm over his waist.  The Decepticon’s engine rumbled and he made a low purring sound deep in his chest.

After a few moments the Autobot finally relaxed into his arms and he and Laserbeak started softly making little beeps and whistles to each other, punctuated by the occasional giggle.

They sounded like a pair of sparklings sharing secrets.

Bumblebee was still a little afraid of the Decepticon, but that would change.  Soundewave’s consciousness was now part of the Autobot’s spark as the shy young mech’s a part of his.  In his optics the three of them were a family.  With luck eventually they would be four or more.

The Silent mech would have smiled…  If he had a face plate.

 

Starscream had his arm around Smokescreen as they walked by to his quarters.  The Autobot was feeling a little sleepy and surprisingly content. 

Smokescreen snuggled absently against the slim Seeker’s side.  He did not consciously realize that, like Bumblebee, he was reaching out for somebot, anybot to latch onto.  The concerned and protective field of the other mech was comforting.

Who would have thought that the usually snide, acerbic Seeker could be so caring?

“Are you hungry?” Starscream asked gently, as they reached the door.

“No,” answered the Autobot, obviously feeling very mellow.  He no longer feared Starscream. 

Surprisingly, his feelings for the mech had already warmed considerably.   “I don’t think I could drink anything else for a while.  My tanks have not been this full since I came to Earth.”  He rubbed his abdominal plating thoughtfully.

“Well, we will make sure you have everything you need.  Just remember, I have two more containers of enriched energon in my subspace.  If you start to feel hungry let me know immediately.” Starscream nuzzled his neck cables.

“Sure,” sighed the young mech leaning into Starscream’s warm, inviting frame.  “Right now, I just need to recharge.”

“Of course,” Starscream hugged him affectionately.  “You can have anything you need, Sweetspark.”

Smokescreen smiled and yawned.  He was too tired to remember that he was supposed to be frightened of this mech.

Once in the room Starscream guided his mate to the berth.  They lay down together and the Autobot snuggled into his arms without complaint, desperately needing the closeness. 

Starscream cradled him gently.  His servo caressing the young mech’s abdominal plating.  He felt a little ripple in Smokescreen’s field tingle against his fingers and grinned realizing what it was.  Smokescreen smiled, “The bitlet is already reaching out.  I’ve been feeling teaks since I woke this morning.”

“Of course, he is strong, that is my sparkling.  I was thinking of calling him Thunderstrike.”

“What if ‘he’ is a femme?” asked the young Autobot.

“Well,” Starscream chuckled.  “Thunderstrike is unisex.”

Smokescreen laughed as they snuggled together.

Starscream absently stroked the Autobot’s abdominal plating.  At first neither realized that his servo had strayed a bit downward.  But once the Seeker felt the interface panel begin to heat up, he pressed more firmly.  He was rewarded with a sexy little moan and the wonderful sensation of his mate’s sleek aft pushing back against him.

Starscream purred, releasing his spike.  “I want you.” 

Smokescreen’s response was his valve cover opening.  He was dripping already.  The Seeker slipped in from behind and thrust deep.

The Autobot met Starscream thrust for thrust with great enthusiasm, obviously he had gotten his second wind.

The pair soon climaxed together.

Laying back looking happy and still exhausted, but completely spent, Smokescreen sighed languidly.  “That was nice.  But now I’m all sticky, and too tired to get up to go to the wash rack.”

Smirking, Starscream eased the young mech’s legs apart.  He moved in and started to lick at his valve. He relished the taste of the lubricant and his own transfluids.  Smokescreen moaned and writhed as that clever glossa delved into his very sensitive opening.

By the time the Autobot was clean, he had overloaded twice more.

“You are evil,” he informed the Seeker sleepily.

The Decepticon SIC chuckled. “Should I be insulted that it took you this long to figure that out?”

 

Ratchet was checking an energon mix in the spectrum analyzer for the tenth time when he felt a light touch on his back. He glanced back to see Shockwave.  He felt arousal coming from the scientist.  That single optic glowed bright with desire.

“Really, Shockwave?  You’re supposed to be the logical, unemotional one.  Can you not keep it in your panel?” grumbled Ratchet and turned back to his experiment.   “I’m trying to finish tweaking this energon formula for Bulkhead,” the medic said, pointedly dismissing the Decepticon.  Yes, he had given the big green mech several cubes before they returned to Shockwave’s lab, but the mech was so badly depleted that he felt the need to try and improve on it.

“You have already been working on it for the past several hours,” Shockwave said, moving close, running his good servo over Ratchet’s aft.

“Have you never heard of personal space?” Ratchet grumbled over his shoulder.

“The concept is familiar to me,” the purple mech said, rubbing his servo over Ratchet’s sides.  “It is an unnecessary social contrivance.” 

“It is a necessary part of the social contract.  You give a mech or femme some space to make them feel more comfortable,” countered Ratchet.

“As I said, unnecessary.  The formula is more than adequate to give him the minerals Bulkhead needs to allow his self-repair to work on his gestational chamber and frame in general.   Your dedication to your craft is admirable, but you are also depleted.  You need fuel,” Shockwave actually purred, kissing the back of his neck cables and rubbing his exposed spike between his leg struts. “And our sparklings need transfluids.  Open for me.”

“Stubborn, annoying…I… Oh, frag it,” Ratchet gasped as the beaker he was using was removed from his servo and placed on the side of the work area while he was gently but firmly pushed down over the table. 

He wanted to protest.  It was not in his nature to meekly submit to anyone.  Ratchet was not some silly adolescent whose procreation protocols had just come online.  He was the oldest mech on the ship, for Primus sake!  But his cyber-hormones were already making it very difficult to say no to anything Shockwave might want that involved his valve.

Moaning, Ratchet’s panel moved aside.

“It is not logical,” admitted Shockwave, even as he pushed his eager spike into the now pliant medic.  “I should not be so addicted to your chassis.  Or your spark.”  The words were incongruous since the scientist was nuzzling Ratchet’s audios and thrusting deep into Ratchet’s tight valve. 

For his part, Ratchet was not listening, having already lost himself to the sensations of being taken over the table.

The strange part was that from the first time he interfaced the Autobot had always preferred to top.  With Optimus he was the one that did all the spiking and they had both liked it that way.   But then, his lover had always been a valve mech. 

It seems being sparked changed his own preference.  Having that extremely large spike in him felt so good!

And even though Shockwave had not initiated a spark bond, he felt the residual effects of their merge.  Strong emotions pulsing through that tentative connection.

There was desire and surprisingly deep affection, which doubled his own arousal.  Ratchet knew he should not be enjoying their coupling nearly as much as he was.   He was a prisoner.  A slave, as were all the Autobots.  And yet he found himself subconsciously embracing the tentative connection between them.

Megatron had greatly miscalculated in this plan to spark the Autobots.  He thought that his mechs would dominate them.  The fact that the sharing of sparks exchanged memories and feelings had not entered his processor. 

Spark play and merging, even without a permanent bond was always intense.  After all Ratchet had done some light merges with Optimus as well as other lovers before, but this was beyond anything he ever experiences.

The medic was not falling in love with Shockwave.  He did not even _like_ the Decepticon scientist.  But there was a connection.  The merge had opened their sparks to understanding and even some resonance.   

Now that was disturbing, having spark resonance with Shockwave!

And thanks to cyber-hormones, his chassis certainly was enjoying the attention.

His spark pulsed with pleasure at the nearness of Shockwave and he could tell the purple mech felt the same.    The Decepticon’s field was awash with desire.  With a growl, Shockwave pulled out and in a surprising show of strength, flipped him easily with his one good servo.  He moved over Ratchet and pushed his spike back in and opened his chest plate.

Ratchet could not stop his chest plates responding in kind.  It frightened him to have no control over his chassis. For a moment he radiated distress, but as their coronas touched a wave of pleasure struck him.

This merge was just as intense as the first. 

Both mechs overloaded twice.

Ratchet was no psychologist, but he was honest enough with himself to admit that this situation had compromised him, and likely the other Autobots.  Despite knowing full well what was happening, his spark was already softening towards the Decepticon scientist.   

He was

It was not all bad.  If the unemotional Shockwave could be drawn to him like this, then the other Decepticons likely were feeling a connection to the rest of the Autobots. 

At least that connection would make them want to care for their sparklings’ carrier and treat them well.

It was just so strange, but under the circumstances it was probably for the best.

He just hoped that the merges and interfacing between Optimus and Megatron could create a connection.  From what he could tell, his former leader was being stubborn, and it was making the Warlord angry. If he did not allow the connection to foster some understanding between them, Optimus was going to be in for a very rough time. 

Antagonizing the mech that owned his stubborn Prime, the one that could make his life a living Pit was not a good idea.

 

Megatron was just coming out of recharge when he felt something odd, but pleasant.

Extremely pleasant. 

Strong pulses of intense arousal washed over him.

The field of his reluctant berth mate was pulsing with need, but the mech was obviously completely unaware that he was so open. 

Optimus Prime was still in recharge and curled on the edge of the bed.  His frame shivering just a little as he was broadcasting his arousal like a horny adolescent.

Megatron edged closer, his engine softly purred encouragement, own desire meshing with the Autobot’s.

This was the right choice.  The intense arousal flared even higher as he revved his engine.

“You need something, Optimus,” Megatron’s gravelly voice purred just beside his audio as he started caressing his aft.

Optimus jumped and tried to scramble off the berth.  The warlord grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Come now, you need not be ashamed of wanting to interface with me,” he said, gently pulling Optimus close.  “Especially with two sparklings growing in you chamber.   I am their sire. They need my transfluids and your chassis knows it.”

“They do not need transfluids for a few days,” Optimus gasped, pulling away stiffly.

Megatron snarled, leaping off the berth and shoving the other mech against the wall.  “Your chassis is broadcasting your need.”

“I can control my desires.  I am not a slave to the needs of my frame,” countered Optimus, glaring.

“But you are a slave to mine!” hissed the warlord.  He growled, face plate inches for Optimus’ glaring right back at him. “You will not deprive my sparklings of transfluids because you are being a stubborn idiot!”

The mechs glared at one another, nasal ridge to nasal ridge, hot interface panels pressed together, while they vented like winded zap-horses.  

Neither one could say which of them initiated the kiss.

They had been literally growling at one another like a pair of Alpha Grid-wolves vying for dominance, and then their intakes were hungrily pressing together.

Their interface panels were already open.  Megatron lifted the other mech, who was still pressed against the wall.  With a roar the warlord dropped him onto his spike.   The Autobot cried out in pure pleasure as he wrapped his leg struts tightly around his rival’s hips.  His valve calipers clenched down on the massive spike, causing a loud moan.

The two mechs were moving together so frantically there are sparks flying between them at every point of contact.   Decepticon bit Optimus’ shoulder hard enough to draw energon with his sharp dentas, sending the other mech into overload.

Megatron soon follows, pumping transfluids into his chamber.

They remained there against the wall for a time, venting to cool their overheated frames.  Eventually Megatron held Optimus tightly against his chest plate as he carried him back to the berth.  He sat down, still bearings deep in the Autobot.  His sharp dentas nibbling on his neck cables.

Optimus hung strutless in his arms.  He was completely spent and beginning to feel the pure happiness from the sparklings at the infusion of transfluids.  They might not technically have needed them yet, but they already understood that receiving them felt good.  Meaning ‘need’ did not strictly enter into it.

They liked the feeling that receiving lots of transfluids gave them and wanted a lot more.  Patients was not something they could comprehend.  

The bitlets wanted instant gratification and they wanted it now!

Basking in the happiness of the sparklings, Megatron started petting the red and blue mech’s back plates. He also nuzzled long audios for good measure.

“Was I too rough?” he asked gently, much to the sated Prime’s surprise.   There was actual concern in his voice and field.

“No,” Optimus was very subdued, and extremely disappointed in himself.  Mostly because he could feel his spark warming towards Megatron. 

Worse, the Decepticon was not too rough.  Everything he did was just perfect.

Optimus had enjoyed that interface much more than he should.  And now the sparklings were radiating their contentment at the infusion of transfluids.

“You are still embarrassed about your desire, aren’t you Optimus?” asked the warlord.

“I should have more control,” the other mech answered sullenly.

“Sparked mechs are emotional and horny, that is a fact of life,” Megatron informed him smugly. “You are going to have to get used to acceding the demands of your chassis.”  He nipped Optimus’ finial.  “And mine.”

“I hate you,” Optimus grumbled without any real venom.  He wanted to get off his rival’s lap, and consequentially, remove the (amazing) spike from his valve.  Unfortunately, the multiple overloads had left him limp as a dishrag in the Decepticon’s powerful arms.

The Autobot was not moving on his own anytime soon.

“No Optimus, we both know that is not true,” said Megatron with a smirk and a playful kiss to very pouty lip plates.  “As angry and frustrated as we sometimes were during the war, hate never entered into the equation.  That is one of the reasons that this war continued for so long.  We both hesitated when we could have struck the killing blow multiple times. You will never hate me.”

Optimus was still limp in the warlord’s arms, completely exhausted from the multiple overloads.  His dim blue optics looked up at the much too cheerful red ones.  “I could learn to hate you.” 

Megatron laughed and kissed him again with a grin on his face plate.  “Be as snarky as you like, Optimus.  I find it rather sexy.  But you must not provoke me into taking you like that again.  We could accidentally harm the sparklings.”

“I did not provoke you,” countered Optimus, but he still could not meet those red optics.

“You are a terrible liar,” he chided, giving the Autobot a very knowing look.  “Now drink some energon, I obviously tired you out.”

“I guess I could use a little,” the Prime admitted with a nervous shrug, taking the offered cube. The Autobot was feeling hungry.  He was also admittedly ashamed because he knew full well that what he did would likely cause Megatron to assert his dominance.  

Something his chassis apparently craved.

He had always been a bit submissive in the berth, but never quite to this extent.  Even as tired as he was, the thought of going another round thrilled him.

Megatron kissed him again and rolled his hips.  Optimus gasped, arching his back strut.  Primus it felt so good.   This was exactly what he wanted.

Damn the smug mech for being so fragging well endowed! 

Even as tired as he was, Optimus found himself moving with the Decepticon, grinding his valve down on that amazing spike. It was sooooo good, but it was not enough. “HARDER!” he gasped.

The Autobot found himself on his back.  “As you wish!” Megatron said with a laugh as he began pounded Optimus into the berth.

After two more climaxes, Optimus could barely keep his optics online.  He gasped when Megatron withdrew.  His oversensitive valve caused him to overload again.

The silver mech nuzzled him.

 “You are so beautiful.”

Optimus looked up at him, seemingly shocked and a little confused at the spark felt statement.

“Come now, did your lovers never compliment you?’ Megatron was surprised at the reaction.  “I know Ultra Magnus was always somewhat unemotional, but surely Ratchet would tell you how lovely you are?” 

“I have never been comfortable with flattery.  From the moment I became Prime, I was inundated by courtiers wanting to garner favor.  They made my plating crawl.”

“Well, I am certainly not a courtier.  And you are beautiful. Always have been.  There is no reason to be embarrassed about it.”

“I… I am not really much for pillow talk,” shrugged Optimus, really wanting to change the subject.

“I managed to frag some words out of you while I sparked you up,” he noted, causing a deeper blush.  The red and blue mech was still sensitive about how he lost control and begged in front of the entire Nemesis crew.

And, just to make his self-esteem plummet further, when he and Megatron had been walking through the corridors to the warlord’s quarters, the optics of the numerous Vehicons and Eradicons never strayed from his array.

“Do you think we could have a repeat performance, my Lord?” asked one of the winged soldiers.

“Perhaps,” rumbled Megatron coyly, running a servo over Optimus’ aft possessively.

The Autobot did not want to admit that the thought did turn him on just a little.  (Ok, more than a little.) Apparently, he had a latent exhibitionistic streak himself lurking in his subconscious, and it was coming out in the absolutely worst time.

And worse, his chassis and the sparkling wanted him to accept Megatron as his mate.  Even the Matrix seemed to be gently hinting that he should.

“Personally, I tend to be rather vocal while intimate.”  The Decepticon pulled Optimus into another lingering kiss.  “Just a word of warning, Optimus.  If you try to keep quiet while we interface, I will consider it a challenge to make you beg.”

Optimus said nothing, even as utterly exhausted as he was, the thought of even more intense interfacing with Megatron warmed his array.

Primus, what was wrong with him?

That was another reason to be concerned.  He was finding it difficult to even remain angry at Megatron.  His stubbornness and refusal to be a good little carrier was the only means of dissent left to him. 

Optimus did not like the way he was reacting to his captivity. 

He could not blame his mechs for reacting as they had.  Especially Bumblebee and Smokescreen.  They were young and vulnerable.  

Optimus was very surprised Ratchet seemed to have submitted Shockwave already.  Even with the merge necessary for conception, he thought that the naturally obstinate medic would have continued to resist. 

And the worst part.  By the time his own sparklings emerged in around ten Earth months, he would probably be deferring to Megatron in the same way. 

That was a depressing thought, but things could be worse.  As big a jerk as Megatron was in general, he did genuinely care about the bitlets.  And in his own twisted way, he cared about Optimus.  Starscream, Soundwave and even Shockwave also displayed affection and concern for the Autobots in their care.

He began to wonder if this was how Primus meant to end the war?  It was not the way he would have chosen, but if the Decepticons were busy raising sparklings, they would be less inclined to attack anyone.

The ones he was more concerned about were Arcee and Bulkhead.  Knock Out and Breakdown were at least sympathetic to their plight, but what would happen if the former Wrecker and Two-wheeler were not eventually able to carry sparklings? 

Despite the understanding that the merges brought, the Autobots were slaves.  Would the Decepticons continue to provide them with fuel if they were deemed unable to fulfill their designated function? 

And even if they did become fertile, what would carrying for their enemies do to his warriors?   They both had good reason to hate the Decepticons.  Especially Arcee. 

Could the two of them adapt to the situation?    

 

Bulkhead had an arm protectively around Arcee.  The Two-wheeler was sprawled across his chest plates, both were recharging peacefully.

A short distance away Breakdown was sprawled in a chair with Knock Out curled up on his lap.

They had been sitting in silence since returning to their shared quarters.  The Autobots had just looked at their captors for a long time.  When they were given no instructions, the pair climbed into the berth and quickly fell into recharge.

“Do you think they will ever be able to carry?” asked Breakdown dejectedly.

“I honestly don’t know,” sighed the Aston Martin. 

“I was happy when all this started,” the larger mech sighed.  “We have wanted sparklings for so long.  But now that seems an impossible dream.”

“I know.” Knock Out kissed his lover and stroked his helm.  “I admit that I was a little freaked about Megatron invoking the Compact of Kaon.  I mean, no one had done that since before the Golden Age and one of the tenants of our cause was to end slavery.  But I thought might work out.  It ended the war with no more killing.  We would take care of the Autobots and create some bitlets.  Seemed like a nice arrangement.”

“I never realized you how bad off the Autobots were,” admitted Breakdown. “They fought so hard, who would have guessed that they were starving?” 

“We will take care for them now,” assured Knock Out.

“Yes… But even so, they may never be able to carry,” sighed Breakdown. 

They were both quiet for a time, then quite suddenly, Breakdown looked longingly into his lover’s optics.  “We always put off having sparklings because of the war.  But the Autobots surrendered.  The war is over now.  There is no more fighting,” he said softly.  “There is no reason that I cannot carry.”

Knock Out blinked at him.  “No, there is not.  I would have to remove your transfluid barrier.  But you are strong and healthy,” he said excitedly.  Until an unwanted thought invaded his processor.  “But Megatron wants sparklings from the Autobots.  All of them.”

“We do not know if Arcee and Bulkhead will ever be able to carry.  Especially Bulkhead.  He is in bad shape.  Even if they eventually can conceive, it will be months before we could even try to spark either of them.  And if I do get sparked, there would be no reason they could not be sparked up also.”

“That is true.  Assuming they are able to carry, by the time it is safe for them to, you would no longer need constant infusions of transfluids.  Still, we had better discuss it with Megatron before doing anything,” Knock Out noted thoughtfully, as both mechs turned their optics to the recharging Autobots.

“Do you think Bulkhead and Arcee would like to help with our sparkling?” asked Breakdown.  He was already thinking about how things would be once he was sparked.  He could not even consider that Megatron would deny them.

Knock Out leaned against his chest plate, frowning.  Both of their Autobots had been very subdued, but not hostile or angry as they were before the merge.  Would the presence of a sparkling calm them more, maybe make them more amenable to being carriers?

Bulkhead moaned in his recharge and tightened his grip on Arcee.  For her part the small femme curled up, almost wrapping herself around his brawny arm.  She let out sad little moan of her own.

The blue mech held Knock Out tighter, his field enveloped his lover.  “We will take care of them.  Keep them safe.  And we will be a family. All of us.”  

Breakdown always was an optimist.

 

To be continued…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the next chapter will be the end of this part of the story.


	7. Setting In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting used to life on the Nemesis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: A lot of talking and thinking about sex. Megatron doing some serious perving, but no real action in this chapter. 
> 
> Introducing some OC Vehicons and Eradicons: Andre, Bert, Ernie, Enrico, Charlene. There will be others in the next chapter including Wilhelm and Rob. I will also be using the kinda sorta official characters, Steve and Gary.
> 
> I do not own The Transformers Etc. and any mistakes are my own.

Two weeks have passed since the Autobots’ surrendered and things have begun to settle into a routine.

 

After it was discovered how bad off the Autobots were, most of the Deception were doing everything they could to make things easier for them.

A few of the Vehicons and Eradicons held grudges because of the loss of friends and lovers during the war.  But even those few angry mechs knew better than to do more than glower.  No one would risk Megatron’s wrath by harming the Autobots.  Especially Optimus. 

Their lord was extremely protective of the Prime and the sparklings he carried.  

This did not mean the other Autobots were fair game. 

They were all very aware that if they touched Bumblebee, Smokescreen or Ratchet they knew that not only would Megatron be after their helms, but Soundwave, Starscream and Shockwave respectively.  Arcee and Bulkhead would have been safe even if Megatron had not cared about their health.  The Vehicons and Eradicons respected and liked Breakdown.  He stuck up for them and had always done his best to protect them during the battles with the Autobots.

The big blue mech was a hero to many of them. 

Also, Knock Out was not nearly as scary as Ratchet.  (Yes, the Autobot’s reputation preceded him.) 

Although the Aston Martin had on occasion threatened to start reformatting some of his patients into polishers if his stash of vintage high grade did not stop disappearing.

There was another reason the Autobots would be completely safe with the troops.  The Decepticon soldiers had gained a lot of respect for the Autobots when they found out how long they had held out against them on so little fuel.  Since they were the lowest ranks on the ship, when fuel had been scarce during the war, they were the ones that went without.  This made them very sympathetic to mechs that had been forced to function almost literally on fumes.

In fact, Arcee and Bulkhead in particular, could not walk down the corridor without being offered a cube of energon or even a treat. 

The purple mechs had managed to set up a small kitchen, and a still to make high grade in a disused storage room where a Vehicon named Andre made energon treats and high grade.  Not that anyone would offer high grade to any of the sparked mechs.

Arcee always refused the offered treats.  She was not being disrespectful or even defiant, she just never really liked sweets.   The high grade was another matter.

Bulkhead had a sweet denta, so after his initial reticence he happily accepted any offered rust sticks or other treats.

The Wrecker got along surprisingly well with the Decepticon foot soldiers once things settled down. 

Truth be told, in a way he preferred their company to that of the other Autobots.   It was not that he was ever treated with anything but respect and friendship by any of the others, even Ratchet.  The problem was that Bulkhead was a grunt at spark.  Wreckers were front-line fighters.   And he had been a laborer before the war.

The big mech always felt a little, not quite uncomfortable, but more undeserving of the attention of high-ranking bots.

Also, the big green mech had never enjoyed deactivating them, as some of the Wreckers had.  It had always made him cringe when his fellow Wreckers would laugh and compare stories about their best kills.

Initially, Optimus had reacted the worst to being in close quarters with the mechs he had once slaughtered with almost ridiculous ease.  It was war, and he had no choice at the time, but he found it difficult to look them in the face plate, or rather mask.

Listening to the Vehicons and Eradicons talk and joke around in the energon mines had made the Prime’s tanks crawl. (Thinking they were non-sentient drones had made things easier.)  But they were not.  The Decepticons were intelligent mechs, but they had chosen to fight for Megatron, and their numbers were overwhelming.  They could not show mercy.

He was very shocked at how kind most of the purple mechs were now that they understood what the Autobots had been going through while they fought. 

When Optimus had finally worked up the courage to apologize to his guards for harming them, he was told not to worry.  “We’re all soldiers here, Prime,” noted one of the Eradicons. He called himself Enrico.  “We didn’t take it personally.  Well, most of us don’t.”  

The Prime looked surprised at how blasé the Eradicon seemed.  Enrico simply shrugged.  “No hypocrites here.  We’ve all deactivated Autobots.  But some mechs lost someone special.  Some just cannot forgive.  But you do not need to worry.  It’s taken care of.”

Soundwave had done some shuffling of personnel almost immediately once the Autobots had been acquired.  He quickly transferred the few Decepticon troops that could not keep their anger in check to guard the mines and other duties that kept them well away from their former foes. 

It was understood by everybot that these new assignments were not meant as a punishment.  No bot lost rank, or privileges.  This was simply a way to keep those with anger issues away from the very vulnerable Autobots.

Best not to tempt fate.

Even so, the Autobots themselves had problems with the Decepticon troops. 

Not that those that remained did anything wrong.  They were all being perfect gentlemechs.  It was just that not even the very ruthless Arcee wanted to be reminded that they had off-lined so many of them. 

She could justify taking down enemy soldiers.  The problem was, now she knew their names. The Two-wheeler could no longer tell herself that they were evil and deserved deactivation simply for wearing the Decepticon brand.

Perhaps most importantly, her hatred for Decepticons had already abated considerably since merging with Knock Out.

Smokescreen and Bumblebee

The troopers that stayed on the Nemesis were extremely polite to them.   Although Optimus noticed that, at least in his case, their gaze still lingered a little too long on his aft

And much to his embarrassment, Optimus was very aware of the Decepticons’ attention.  When he walked with Megatron, the slagger would grope his aft right in front of them.  And whenever he did the Autobot’s valve would be dripping by the time they were at their quarters.

The Autobots could roam freely through most of the ship, if they remained in range of Soundwave’s surveillance systems and on the upper levels.

According to the Decepticon troopers, this was not because they were not trusted.  This was for their own good. 

An Eradicon, Charlene by name, had appointed herself to be in charge of the Autobots’ security details.  She spoke in low, hushed tones as she explained the danger.  Her wings twitched slightly with agitation. 

“There are places in the lower parts of the ship where mechs sometimes disappear, never to be seen again.  You may not be aware that the Nemesis was once the Metro-Titan Trypticon.  He will consume unwary mechs that ventured too far into the lowest decks.”

The disturbing part was that her field was completely sincere. 

Soundwave’s masked helm never moved.  The silent mech would neither confirm nor deny the part about mechs having disappeared.  However, he did play a clip from Megatron before turning and walking away.  “Do not question my orders.”

The Autobots disobeyed their captors in small ways sometimes.  Just because they could get away with it.  However, since they knew for a fact that at least the part about Nemesis being a transformed Trypticon was true, they agreed between themselves that was a restriction they were going to respect.

 

It took the entire two weeks for Breakdown to work up the courage to speak to Megatron about carrying.

Just because he was excited, did not mean he was suicidal.  Megatron had mellowed considerably now that the war was over, but he was still a very dangerous mech when annoyed.

Knock Out had been even more nervous than his partner when he and Breakdown stood before the impassive mech to ask his permission of him to carry.  Rachet and Shockwave were also there.  The silver mech had called for the Autobot medic when he was informed of the reason for the requested meeting.  Shockwave stood behind him.  His good servo rubbed circles on Ratchet’s back plates.   

It was beginning to appear that the scientist literally could not keep his servos off his Autobot mate.

At the insistence of his slightly apprehensive lover, Breakdown had waited until he was sure their Lord was in a good mood to broach the subject. 

Since the warlord had been sitting on his throne for a while with a faraway look and a slight smile on his face plate, they assumed he had been pounding Optimus just before coming to the bridge.

That seemed the logical conclusion since the Prime was not with him.  Which was very unusual.  Optimus would normally be sitting on a cushion beside the throne.  He would sit, pretending to be annoyed, while he leaned into the large servo that stroked his helm. 

His absence meant he was curled up in their shared berth having been interfaced into deep recharge.

Megatron said nothing as Breakdown pleaded his case.  Knock Out was standing behind his partner for moral support.  As were Arcee and Bulkhead.  When the former Wrecker told the two Autobots about their plans, they were surprisingly supportive. 

And this was not because they thought they would not be expected to carry if this happened.  The pair understood that they would still be expected to carry when/ or more likely if, their frames became capable of it.

Both warriors had accepted their lot in life.  In a way it was not so bad.  They did miss their human friends terribly, even Agent Fowler and June Darby.  Still, they consoled themselves with the fact that were no longer in constant danger.

And they did not want the innocent younglings to see them like this.  All of them were ashamed, especially Optimus.  He had little choice but to accept his situation, still he felt as if he had failed everyone.  Especially their human friends.

Megatron was surprisingly quiet during the entire speech, listening thoughtfully as Breakdown made his case that him carrying would be a good thing for the Decepticon cause. 

He did have a lot of positives.  After all, they were at peace.  Every soldier was not needed to be battle ready. 

“I know you want sparklings from all of the Autobots,” said Breakdown.  “But it will be months before they might be able to, if they are eventually able to carry.   And we can spark them after the bitlets are born.”

“And we will be happy to help them care for the sparklings,” noted Arcee.  Bulkhead nodded in agreement.

The warlord was pleased by how well the two very stubborn warriors, especially the femme were adjusting.  And how quickly they had gone from resentful to supportive.  Having already decided to let them create, Megatron turned to the Autobot medic.  “What is your professional opinion, Ratchet?”

“Well, I would need to examine Breakdown to make sure his chamber is working optimally.  I can pretty much guaranty that physically he will be in better shape than any of us.  Unless there is internal damage that has not been detected before, I do not see any problem.  Although, he would not be able to spark anybot for several months after emergence. All his spare energon would be used for building the protoforms, and then processed into fuel for the sparklings.  His chassis will not produce transfluids until the sparklings can start getting supplemental feeding of enriched low grade.”

Megatron nodded.  “As you say, we are at peace and I certainly will not disallow the creation of more of our people now that we have the resources.  If Ratchet says you are healthy, Breakdown, I see no reason you cannot carry.  I understand that some of the Vehicons and Eradicons would like to procreate also.” Soundwave had informed him of this not long after the Autobots were taken.  He thought Megatron needed to know the mood of his troops. 

“The only restriction I will place on them is that no more than three of them carry at one time to keep from depleting our workforce.  Or putting unreasonable demands on Ratchet and Knock Out,” added the Decepticon leader.  “Also, there is always a chance that we will need to use military force, either against the humans or any Autobots that come to Earth.  We have the Terrorcons, but they are difficult to control, even for me.  I would not want to use them on the battlefield unless we were facing a large-scale battle and needed overwhelming numbers.”

Ratchet bristled at that, but Shockwave stroked his helm reassuringly.  “Optimus submission covers every mech under his command.  As such, any Autobots that arrive on Earth will be made aware of this and given a chance to surrender peacefully.  If they fight, we will do all we can to take them with minimal injury.”

The medic just shook his helm.  Those words were not exactly comforting, but he knew it was the best he was going to get.

Breakdown on the other servo was positively beaming.  “Thank you, my Lord,” he said gratefully.  “That will make a lot of mechs very happy.  I will let them know immediately.”

“Tell them I will leave the decision on which of them will carry first up to them,” added Megatron.

Ratchet stepped closer, all business.  “Breakdown, can you also ask any of the Vehicons and Eradicons that want to carry to make an appointment to come to the med bay?  I want to give anybot that intends to carry a thorough examination.  We have all been beating the slag out of each other for centuries.  Them were on the receiving end more than any of us so they could have damage that might cause issues.”

“I will let them know,” assured Breakdown.

 

Optimus yawned and stretched, biting back a groan of pain.  His back struts were very sore.  Megatron had literally bent him double, knees against his chest plates while the mech pounded his valve.  The Autobot had been in that position for most of the night.  Admittedly, this was immensely enjoyable during the act itself, but he was rather uncomfortable afterward.

Sighing he rolled off the berth, rubbing his back struts.  The Autobot did not want to get up.  He was still tired, but unfortunately, his tanks were pinging him.  They were low.  To his surprise they were below fifty percent.  Ratchet had told him that he should not allow his level to get bellow sixty.  Period.

The warlord did not say specifically what he would do if it happened.  However, since there were restraints, a few other things, including a flexible rod.  He might be a closet exhibitionist, but pain did absolutely nothing for him.

Oddly enough, he had never seen who the bondage equipment was used with in their merges.

If the vague threat were not enough to make him comply, Megatron had threatened to force feed him if he objected.  Optimus did not intend to tempt the slagger. 

Since his subspace was locked down, as were all the Autobots, he could not keep any spares and Megatron was not there so he would have to take care of it himself.

The door was not locked so he stepped outside and was met by a pair of Decepticons.  He was not surprised.  The warlord made sure that if he was not standing over his carrier then at least two Vehicons or Eradicons were to accompany him everywhere.

 “Hi, Optimus!  You certainly had a long recharge…”   He felt a little tightening of his tanks.  “Oh my, you look a little run down,” tutted one of the Decepticons.  The first mech had a higher voice and sounded a little younger than his partner.

“And your field is positively pulsing with hunger.  Lord Megatron should have thought to leave you some energon after all that…  activity.  Come on, let’s get you some energon.”  The other, slightly less chipper mech reached out and patted his abdominal plating, then took his servo and started leading him down the corridor. 

With a sigh the Prime resigned himself to being in the company of Ernie and Bert.  Apparently, they had once again volunteered to escort him.

Joy.

It was not that he disliked the two Vehicons.  They were quite nice and so happy about everything. 

Optimus generally liked to encourage a positive attitude, but those two… The Vehicons were entirely too cheerful, even for him.

However, he did not have the strength to argue so he allowed himself to be led down to the mess hall.  The Prime stiffened as he was tugged into the room.  It was full of Decepticons.  

Not an unusual occurrence on the Nemesis as one would imagine. 

The troopers were refueling, playing computer games and generally relaxing.

Had it not been for the two mechs pulling him along, he would have turned around and gone back to the Megatron’s quarters without any fuel.  Having their faceless masks all turned towards him was unnerving. 

“Optimus!” gasped Andre excitedly. The Autobot had a little trouble telling the myriad of Vehicons and Eradicons apart sometimes.  Generally, they had no distinguishing markings.  Perhaps the occasional scar.  Even so, there was no mistaking Andre. 

As always, the self-appointed head chef of the Nemesis was resplendent in his specially made apron and chef’s hat.  He opened a cabinet and quickly found what he was looking for.   He walked over to the table with a pair of large cubes and beckoned to the Prime.  “Come, sit down.  I have your enriched energon.  And I just made some Cadmium Cream treats.”

The Autobot hesitated, but Bert and Ernie were having none of it.  They quickly pulled him over to the table and urged him to sit. With a sigh he sank down on the bench while Andre set two cubes of enriched energon.  Each was labeled with Cybertronian glyphs spelling out his name.  The Vehicon also motioned over to a winged mech who set down a large tray of Iron and Cesium coated treats.

Optimus’ intake watered at the sight.  It had been decades since he had seen treats like this.  Still he looked a little embarrassed as every mech in the room watched him expectantly.  “Please tell me these are not all for me.” The tray was piled high with the exceptionally delicious looking, very rich confections.

“No, of course not,” Andre chuckled.  “I do not want to stuff you with sweets.  You need to make sure to eat healthy for the bitlets.  But do not worry, I have several more trays cooking.  There will be more than enough for everybot.  But I expect you to have at least two or I will be very upset with you.”

Optimus took one of the treats, smiling at the Vehicon.  “I would not want that. But you are sure there are enough for everyone?”

“Well, since we are not fighting your team, we have plenty of energon to spare.”  He saw the slight flinch from the mech.  He held up his servos. “Sorry.  No offence.”

“None taken,” sighed the red and blue mech.  “You simply speak the truth.”  To put the Vehicon at ease, he took a bite of his treat.  “This is very good, Andre.  I see why everybot here thinks so highly of your cooking.”

“Thank you,” Andre answered, obviously pleased.  “Just make sure that you drink your enriched energon too.”

“Of course,” he nodded, lifting one of the cubes.  He took a long draft.  “This taste different than usual?”

“Do you like it?” asked Andre nervously.  Even with all the well-deserved praise he received for his energon preparation he was still a little insecure about trying new recipes.  “I know you and Arcee, unlike the younger mechs, do not like things that are too sweet.  Ratchet let me mix his enriched energon with some nickel shavings to give it a bit of a tart taste.”

That was one of the reasons that Optimus liked treats made with cadmium.  The cream was light, airy and not too sweet.

“It is very good,” confirmed Optimus.  “I am surprised Ratchet allowed you to alter his formula.  He can be a bit proprietary.”

The Vehicon chuckled, as did a couple of the other Decepticon troopers.  “He tested my addition to it for three whole day cycles to make sure it did not lessen the effectiveness of it.  In the end I think he was annoyed that he did not think of it himself.”

Optimus laughed.  He could not help it.   He blamed rising hormones for his loss of control of his emotions. He had already begun to laugh, cry, and general exhibit more emotions than he had in the last century.

The Decepticons seemed pleased to provoke such a reaction in the normally dour mech. 

When the Autobot finished the second cube of enriched energon he sat back and sighed.  The feeling of being full made him a little sleepy.   But it seems that was not enough for Andre.  “I said you had to have two.  Remember.”  He held out another treat and waved it in front of his intake.

The Autobot almost told him no, but the scent of the treat quickly changed his processor.  However, he did not want to be fed.  He lifted his servo to take it.  Andre shook his helm and tutted.  “Open wide.”

Sighing in resignation Optimus complied.  He bit down on the stick, taking about a third of it into his intake.  Since he could not control how it was held, he ended up with some of the Cadmium cream on his lip plates and dripping down his chin.  His glossa darted out to get the rest of the luscious cream.

The crowd of purple mechs went quiet as he sighed.  It took Optimus a moment to realize that they were staring at his face plate. The embarrassed mech blushed furiously, quickly realizing the implications of their gaze.

Then he jumped as a pair of large servos settled on his shoulders and a wave of pure, hot, lust washed over him.

Slowly raising his optics, Optimus found himself looking into a familiar face plate.

With a smirk Megatron leaned down and delicately licked the remnants of the cream off his intake and chin.  “You taste delicious,” he purred. “I want more.”

The Prime shivered as those servos began to caress his chest plates.  They moved lower, inexorably heading for his interface panel.  Optimus caught them and shook his helm.  “No. Please,” his voice was strained, he whispered. “Not here.”

Megatron nuzzled him.  “As you wish, Optimus.”  He leaned in close.  His raspy voice chuckled as he whispered into a long audio finial.  “But very soon I will take you on this table with all these mechs watching and cheering.  Just like our first time.  I know you enjoyed being watched.  You crave an audience.  Perhaps your Autobots would like to see you writhe beneath me again?  Do you think it would arouse Ratchet?  Seeing you spread out on the table, valve dripping wet as you beg for my spike?  Perhaps I will even let him join me in pleasuring you.”

Distress, confusion and desire warred within the red and blue mech’s wildly pulsing field.  But for now, the distress was the most pronounced. 

“But not today,” conceded Megatron, petting him gently. 

The warlord had picked up something interesting during their merges.   Something that he doubted Optimus fully realize.  As the Matrix Bearer, spiritual and military leader of the Autobots was used to being revered, almost worshiped.  He had been treated like nothing more than an extension of the relic in his chest by all but a very few close friends. 

He had been so terribly isolated and alone since becoming Prime. 

Buried beneath his stoic exterior, he craved affection.  He wanted to be accepted, loved.  Thanks to Megatron sending him into multiple overloads under the lustful gaze of his troops, this apparently had begun to manifest itself in a bit of an exhibitionism kink. 

The very new experience of mechs looking at him with desire instead of fear or reverence was a turn on. 

Megatron continued to pet the nervous Autobot.   He really was trying to win Optimus over.  While the angry sex was exhilarating, he wanted more.  He wanted to be allowed to gently coax Optimus to arousal and overload.  The Decepticon wanted the beautiful mech to think of him as a lover, not just his captor.  He hated to admit it, but he was a little jealous that all his subordinates seemed to get along so much better with their Autobots than the two of them.

Primus, even Shockwave seemed to have managed to garner Ratchet’s affection as well as his very willing submission. 

Megatron helped the unresistant Autobot to his peds.  “Come Optimus, since you are not quite ready to put on a show, but obviously need my spike, we can go back to our room.” 

They were almost to the exit when Megatron turned and spoke to the Vehicon in the Chef hat.  “Andre, do you happen to have any of that cadmium cream left?” he asked, smirking.

The only blue optics in the room widened as the Vehicon chuckled knowingly.  “As a matter of fact, my Lord, I do.”

“Bring it to my quarters,” Megatron said brightly, all but shoving the very shocked Autobot through the door.

 

 

To be continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Notes: OK, there is going to be one more chapter. There are a few things that I have a little more for this part of the story and I suddenly realized this chapter was already over four thousand words. Next post here will be the end of this story arc. Promise.


	8. Giving And Receiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: The title says it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Sticky Sex, Spark Sex, Oral, Mech Preg, Mpreg, Food Sex and Tentacles. 
> 
> I do not own The Transformers etc. and any mistakes are my own.

Ratchet was a little surprised, and depressed, when Shockwave told him he would be in his lab on Cybertron for several days.  The medic recalled how, back at their base, he had to almost plead to be allowed to spend a little time alone.  He loved his fellow Autobots as he did Raf, Miko and Jack.  But Primus they could get under ped sometimes. 

Even Optimus would occasionally step on his last nerve just by being in the silo.

And now he had begun to feel a little nervous at the sudden lack of attention from Shockwave.  He found himself wondering if the scientist had gotten past his infatuation with him.  Ratchet was very surprised that the thought troubled him.

Despite his situation, the Autobot had begun to enjoy the other mech’s attentions.

It was nice to be pampered and treated as special, and sexy.  Something that had never happened to him before, ever. Even back when he was known as the ‘Party Ambulance’ his lovers usually did not stay the night. 

Besides, Optimus was not one for public displays of affection.  He would not do more than place a servo on his shoulder when they were anywhere that they might be seen.

The Prime would never even consider sneaking a kiss or a grope, even if he was sure no bot was looking.  

When they were out of sight, he could be a total cuddle bear.  Lots of nuzzling, snuggling and very intimate licking.  Optimus was a bit orally fixated at time. 

Ratchet had been fine with keeping their relationship a secret.  As Prime, Optimus always felt that he had to set an example for his mechs. 

They were not in a serious relationship.  Not considering becoming bonded.  They were friends with benefits, and both were good with that. 

Optimus was an amazing lover.  He was thoughtful, gentle, skilled and extremely caring.  In private.  He had also always been honest about the nature of their relationship. 

 

Ratchet sighed, trying not to think about that.  He had come to terms with the fact that his time with Optimus was over.  Still, it saddened him.

But much to his surprise, Shockwave had already begun to fill the void.

Perhaps it was the novelty of finding himself the center of attention for a bot who would not hesitate to pull him into a hug or even blatantly groping him in public?  One that treated him like somebot special and did not feel the need to hide it.   

The medic tried not to let it bother him that he was suddenly left on his own.  After all, Ratchet was hardly a youngling being rejected by his first crush. 

For Primus sake, he did not even like Shockwave. 

The Autobot kept telling himself that he should not get distracted from his work by pining over a Decepticon.  He was just being affected by a bad case of overactive cyber-hormones thanks to the sparklings. 

Especially now.  Smokescreen was having a serious problem with nausea.  Ratchet needed to adjust the formula for his energon again.  They were only two weeks into gestation but the young mech was having trouble keeping energon down.   

Some nausea was normal for carrying mechs.  The hormones and other changes to the frame was very prone to open, but after a few days he could not keep anything down.  It had been over a week since he could even get the energon into his tanks.  Smokescreen was starting to lose mass from his protoform, which was very bad.

Ratchet started putting in an IV once a day cycle already to keep up his strength.

It would have been much worse if he or Optimus was affected because of their already malnourished condition. The young mech had been in better shape than the rest of the Autobots, but after a miserable week, the nausea was causing Ratchet and Knock Out to become concerned for the sparkling.

Knock Out did everything he could to help, but chemistry was not his forte.   The Aston Martin’s main contribution was to take over the examinations for the other sparked mechs and any minor medical issues so that he could concentrate of Smokescreen. 

Besides, he and his mate were very busy making sparklings of their own.  Ratchet expected that the next time he scanned Breakdown he would pick up readings for several new sparks.

Poor Smokescreen was very ill and Starscream had been insisting loudly (and right in his face plate) that Ratchet must do something for his mate. “I will not have my carrier or heir endangered,” he had growled dangerously.

“Neither will I.”  The Seeker froze as a powerful, very displeased field washed over him.  “Ratchet will work better without interference,” the low monotone held a very palpable air of menace.

Starscream had backed off immediately.  The Decepticon Second in Command knew better than to provoke Shockwave.  Whatever else he might think of the scientist, he knew from experience that single powerful servo could crush him like a cyber-beetle.

That had happened several days ago, before the scientist left.  The medic would never admit it to anybot, but he felt a thrill in his spark at how protective Shockwave had become of him and there sparklings.

He really should not get upset that there was a sudden change in his behavior.  Shockwave’s processor had been altered.  His emotions were usually nonexistent.  For him to have shown any affection for the medic at all was basically a miracle from Primus. 

Or possibly a glitch…  Yes. Much more likely it was some sort of glitch that had sorted itself out.

Shockwave himself had been puzzled by his own intensely emotional reaction to their interfacing and merging. 

Pushing his doubts and concerns to the back-burner Ratchet focused his attention on Smokescreen’s problem.  After almost two solid days (and nights) he thought that he found the answer.   A mild energon mixture with no magnesium.  He was about to contact Starscream to bring the young mech in when he felt a very powerful field enveloped him.

Shockwave stood behind him.  Turning he found that single optic focused on him.  It was still a little unnerving.  “Shockwave?  I… did not know you were back on Earth.”

“I completed my task sooner than expected,” he said evenly.  He then reached up to touch the medic’s cheek.   Ratchet shivered at the gentle caress.   It had only been two days (and nights) but he missed the Decepticon’s presence.

Shockwave reluctantly took his hand from the medic, reached into his subspace and pulled out a small device.  It fit easily into the palm of his servo. “I fabricated is for you.”

Ratchet was puzzled at first but cycled his optics twice when he realized what the unassuming object was.  His knee joints almost buckled.

“That… That is a vocal modulator,” he gasped.

Shockwave nodded.  “During our merges I felt your distress at not having access to the materials or surgical equipment required to repair the young scout’s vocalizer.  My lab on Cybertron had everything needed to produce one.  Also, the Nemesis med bay is vastly superior to what you were forced to make do with in the human silo.”

Ratchet gasped.  “You fabricated a new vocalizer for Bumblebee?  That was very delicate, time consuming work.”

“Yes.  That is why I needed to be sequestered for the last few day cycles.  However, if it relieves you of your anxiety over the scout my time was well spent.”  The voice remained completely emotionless, even as his field gave a little pulse of pleasure. 

“You really did that for me?” Utterly shocked and almost in tears, Ratchet leapt into the purple mech’s arms. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

He could not believe that Shockwave could be so thoughtful…

So sweet. 

One strong arm wrapped around his waist and held him tightly.  Ratchet smiled realizing that yes, he had indeed begun to like Shockwave.  

“Smokescreen needs me now.  His condition has been deteriorating rapidly.  But once he is taken care of, I will show you how happy you have made me.”

 

Smokescreen was curled up on the berth, trying not to whimper.  He was one very miserable Autobot.

A servo petted him gently.  “Do you think you can take a little energon?” asked Starscream.  There was concern awash in his field.

“Not right now,” sighed the Autobot.  He snuggled closer, taking what comfort he could from the nearness of his mate.  Even so, his tanks were doing flip flops, twisting and churning.  Just the thought of energon made him dry heave.  (Again)

“Can you try to take a little energon?”  said Starscream, laying his helm lightly against his neck cables. He had not been able to keep anything down for almost three days.  “Ratchet said if you could not ingest today you will need intravenous energon again.”

“Not yet,” Smokescreen gasped, dry heaving again.  He had nothing left in his tanks to purge.

“My poor Smokescren,” sighed the Seeker petting his helm gently.  This was intolerable!  His mate was ill, and he was feeling the echoes of his distress through their tentative bond.  With two fragging medics on the ship surely one of them could find a way to help him!  If anything happened to either of them because of those incompetent fools…

_‘Starscream,’_ Shockwave’s monotone came over the com.  The Autobots’ coms had been mostly disabled.  They could contact their mate/ master, Knock Out, Soundwave, and Charlene, the Eradicon that was responsible for their escorts.  _‘Ratchet has a formula that should help Smokescreen.  Do you require assistance in bringing him to the med bay?’_

_‘No,’ the Seeker did not need anyone to help carry his mate.  “We will be there as soon as possible.’_  

 

A short time later, Starscream entered the young Autobot into the med bay.  It was a little awkward.  The Seeker and Grounder were almost the same size, but as weak as his poor mate was, the mech would not allow him to attempt to walk. 

Not that he was strong enough to even try.

Ratchet patted one of the berths.  “Put him here.  I need to set up an IV.”

“Again?” grumbled Starscream.

“Yes,” said Ratchet.  “Unfortunately, he is still very dehydrated.  Once the IV is going I will run a line directly into his tanks to bypass his gag reflex and start slowly pumping in the reformulated energon.” 

The young mech flinched as the needle was pushed into his protoform.

Starscream winced as his mate clutched at his servo.

“Shh…  Easy Smokescreen,” the Seeker soothed.  “This will make you feel better.”

The young Autobot whimpered as the line was feed into his tank. 

Ratchet reached up and stroked his helm.  “All done.  The new formula is going into you tank now.  Do you feel any nausea or pain?”

The dull optics blinked.  Then the blue helm shook.  He even managed a very weak smile.  “Don’t feel anything,” he said weakly.

“Is that bad?” asked Starscream.

“No, that is good,” assured Ratchet.  “It means the mixture registers as neutral and is not upsetting his tanks.”  He scanned the young mech, then patted his shoulder gently.  “Just recharge, Smokescreen.  Everything will be alright.  By the time you wake, your tanks should be full.  Hopefully, after that you will be able to ingest the energon normally.”

Ratchet stepped back.  Starscream got into the berth, spooning behind Smokescreen, cuddling his mate.

Another step back and the Autobot felt the barely contained desire of Shockwave’s field brush against him.  “Starscream, com Shockwave or Knock Out if Smokescreen has any nausea.  Otherwise, both of you should try to get some recharge,” noted Ratchet.

The large Decepticon placed his servo on Ratchet’s back strut and steered him towards the door. 

When they finally reached the berth, the medic leaned over it, his valve was exposed and ready.  They did not want to take the time to climb in. 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Ratchet cried out as that large spike filled him from behind.

Two overloads later and the medic languidly crawled into the berth.  Shockwave moved behind him.  Very soon they both felt the happiness of the bitlets.  Although they did not need a donation from their sire every day, they always became excited and happy when receiving them.

Shockwave reached over and rubbed his abdominal plating.  “Thank you for them,” he said in a surprisingly affectionate voice.  “I still do not understand why I feel an emotional response to you or them.  But somehow, you make me happy.”

The Decepticon pulled him closer.   No more words were needed.  His field spoke volumes.

Ratchet fell into recharge feeling content.

 

Soundwave and Laserbeak cuddled Bumblebee.

They were all extremely excited and happy. 

Ratchet was going to be replacing Bee’s damaged voice box first thing in the morning!  He was ecstatic.  The young mech was almost vibrating, he had trouble falling into recharge.

The yellow scout was beaming with happiness, holding the Symbiot against his chest plate and snuggling with the blue mech behind him.  This was the way they always seemed to end up when they went to the berth.

Over the past few weeks the young mech had become much more comfortable around the silent mech. 

He wanted to be held tight.   Even liked it when the Dock wrapped a tentacle around him. For some reason it made him feel secure.

At one-point Soundwave had to go to the bridge for a moment.  A suspicious blip had come up on the sensors.  It turned out to be simply a stray human satellite.  But by the time he made it back to the room, Laserbeak had called twice.

‘Are you on your way back? Bee is getting restless,’ he sent before the mech had even stepped onto the bridge.

A few moments later as he enters the elevator to return the Symbiot commed again, he was becoming concerned.  ‘Our mate is whimpering.  Will you be back soon?’  

Feeling Bee’s growing distress at his absence, Soundwave had already quickened his pace. 

Vehicons and Eradicons parted for him as the tall mech strode purposefully towards his quarters.  He did not stop as he sent the command to open the door.  He quickly slipped back into the berth, behind the now whimpering mech. 

The Decepticon sent reassurance through the bond even before reaching the room.  Bumblebee was still in recharge, but extremely agitated by the time Soundwave crawled back into his spot behind him.   The little mech settled down immediately.

Bee was anxious when he was not there and relaxed instantly when he returned.  Soundwave was very pleased by that development.

And even more pleased a few nights later when he began to feel arousal.  The slender mech stroked his mate’s back struts and allowed his own desire to touch his field.  Just a little bit.  Enough to show his interest, to encourage, but not influence.

Bumblebee had started to subconsciously rub his aft against Soundwave’s spike panel.  Still the blue mech did not let his full feelings of need into the bond.  He very much wanted to interface, but it was going to be because his mate wanted to also. 

The Dock was not going to do anything while Bee communicated his desire to do so.

He wanted Bee to be completely sure that he was ready to take that step.

The young mech’s need was soon broadcasting so strong that Laserbeak was becoming very aroused.  The Symbiot carefully extracted himself from the Autobot’s arms and leapt up to his perch. 

Laserbeak hoped that eventually he would be invited to join them.  Contrary to popular belief, his kind could interface.  But that was also a decision that Bumblebee was going to have to make.

Suddenly bereft of his teddy bear, Bee’s optics snapped open.  He glanced around and quickly looked up at Soundwave.  His cheeks flushed at the realization that he had been rather wantonly rubbing himself against the Dock.

They looked at one another a moment, then Soundwave used a sound file of Breakdown as he touched Bee’s cheek gently.  “Only if you want to,” it said.

Bumblebee blushed again but did not pull away.  

This was not the first time that Bee had become aroused in his arms.  Over the last week it had become a nightly occurrence.  But always before when he woke, he became embarrassed and pretended to still be asleep. 

Soundwave had allowed him to do so.  Never putting any sort of pressure on his mate.  A little time spent in the wash rack would take care of the charge if necessary. 

The last time this had happened the young mech had shuttered his optics and eventually gone back into recharge.   Not this time.

Bumblebee allowed his mask to retract.  Soundwave had made it clear to Knock Out that unlike the Prime, his mate could keep his mask.  He understood the need for masks better than most.  The Dock also understood why Megatron had Optimus’ battle mask removed.  He wanted his mate’s face plate visible to him always. 

The little mech was radiating desire.  He leaned close and kissed Soundwave’s visor.  A couple of shy beeps inquired, ‘Can you kiss?’

Slowly the helm moved side to side.  “Sorry, that is not possible,” said a Vehicon’s voice.  Bee thought it was Steve.

He frowned.  The Decepticon let his need and affection be felt through the bond.  He drew Bumblebee close against his frame and began to purr. 

The Autobot’s engine revved in response.

A slender servo brushed the smaller mech’s lip plates.  “There are other things that I can do,” said Knock Out’s voice suggestively.  Soundwave focused on the tempting chassis before him, waiting for permission to do more.

Very slight hesitation, then a chirp. ’Show me.’

With a nod and a pulse of desire and love, which was returned by his mate, Soundwave released three of his tentacles. 

They moved slowly, tentatively.   Bumblebee had no fear of them now.  They made him feel surprisingly secure when wrapped around him.  But was he ready to accept this part of Soundwave in a more intimate way?  

He let one of the tentacles gently caress full lip plates. Bee smiled and kissed it.  Then with a naughty beep, licked it.

A second slender appendage brushed over his chest plates, slipping into seams.  The third slipped delicately between Bee’s thighs.

After a few delicate strokes Bumblebee’s panel opened.  He let out a loud moan when one slim tentacle slide over his wet valve.  It tickled his anterior node, making the yellow chassis writhe.  Bee beeped and trilled moving his hips against the lovely pressure from the appendage. ‘More! More!’

Soundwave let another tentacle snaked down purposefully.  It brushed the warm wet valve and slipped it inside.  Since the tips were relatively small, they could coil and uncoil freely within the tight, wet passage.   Another tentacle wrapped around Bee’s ridged spike. 

It began to leak at the stimulation.  Soundwave truly wished he could taste it.  The slim spike looked very sweet, but an angry Senator and Empurata made that impossible long before the war.

Purring louder he let the flexible tip slip into the weeping slit at the top of the sweet little spike.  Bumblebee almost sobbed, humping against the solid blue chassis as the silent mech pleasured his mate.

Bee let out a loud cry shooting trasnfluids over the tentacle and sagged against him. 

Soundwave cuddled him gentle.  “Beautiful,” whispered Megatron’s awe filled voice.  Vaguely Bumblebee recognized it as being from the moment the warlord had looked down at Optimus Prime’s spark.

He was enjoying the contentment that washed over him from the young mech, when Soundwave felt a tentative touch to his interface panel.  Bumblebee looked up at him as if asking permission to continue.

“I want you,” said Knock Out’s voice seductively.

Bee smiled and chirped, ‘Open.’

The blue mech released his spike.  Bumblebee took it in his servo, exploring the thick rod.  His blue optics fixed on it. 

Soundwave allowed him to play for several moments, but he also noted that a lovely glossa kept slipping out to lick his lip plates.  “Would you like a taste?”  It was Andre’s voice.

Bumblebee giggled as he looked up at the blue mech.  Then, with optics still on his face plate, the little mech let his glossa flick out over the swell of the head.

The Decepticon let out a moan that was all his own.  Bee smiled and did it again.  Because of how they were kneeling on the berth, the yellow mech had to break optic contact when he took the head of the spike in his intake.

It was not his first time.  He and Smokescreen had.  Honestly, that had been kind of clumsy, but fun.

He did not attempt to take the entire thing in all at once.  He almost gagged the first time he tried that with his friend and Soundwave was somewhat larger.

Instead he licked and mouthed the thick, bulbous tip, making the usually silent mech make sounds very much like a strangled moan.  “Tease!” The voice was Breakdown’s.   “More!” That was from Knock Out. 

Apparently, he had a lot of soundbites from those two.

Soundwave moaned in disappointment when the yellow mech released his spike.  He smiled laying back on the berth, a sexy smile on his face plate.  “Please,” he chirped, running a servo between his thighs.

Moving over his willing partner, Soundwave worshiped his chassis with his servos and tentacles.  He had the younger mech writhing by the time he slid his spike home.

Strong leg struts wrapped around the Decepticon’s waist.  A stream of squeals and chirps of pure bliss as he overloaded.  Soundwave quickly used some clothes to clean them both, then snuggled up in his usual place spooned behind his mate.

Laserbeak leapt down to snuggle up beside his family.  He received a little kiss from Bumblebee as he settled in against the yellow mech’s chest plate.

Happiness zinged through their shared bond as Bee slowly drifted into recharge.   

The Symbiot sent a subtle inquiry to his Dock.  ‘Do you think he will let me join?’

The silent mech nodded, sending reassurance.  He could feel the affection that Bee held for Laserbeak.  He had no doubt that the Symbiot would be allowed to share pleasure with them soon. Soundwave could hardly wait to hear this beautiful bot call his designation as he climaxed.

This was wonderful, Soundwave thought with a sigh.  He had not felt so content since before the war, when he had his family.  Rumble, Frenzy, Buzzsaw, Ratbat… 

No, he would not allow himself to be brought down by memories.  He would never forget those that were lost.  But he was building a new family.  Soon he, Bee and Laserbeak would have sparklings of their own to love.

 

Optimus was very apprehensive by the time he and Megatron reached the quarters they shared.

A large servo was on his aft.  His face plate was almost burning from the warlord’s request to Andre.  The Vehicon was going to be bringing a bowl of Cadmium Cream by for… Whatever Megatron wanted it for.

He had a pretty good idea of the other mech’s intent.

Just the thought made his plating crawl.

Megatron was surprised at Optimus’ field.  Optimus has been extremely aroused when they left the makeshift break room.  Usually, if he groped that delectable aft and nuzzling his neck cables on the way to their quarters the Prime would be extremely aroused when they reached the door. 

He most definitely was not.  

Puzzled, Megatron sat on the berth and pulled the somewhat apprehensive mech into his lap.  “What is wrong, Optimus?  You are obviously upset.”

The Autobot looked away.

“Come now, what could be wrong?” asked Megatron.  “You seem upset, why?” 

“It’s nothing.”

“That was a rather unconvincing denial,” noted the Decepticon.  “Optimus, much as you would prefer not to admit it, you are my mate.  I want you to be happy. Please tell me why you are upset?”

“It really is nothing,” mumbled Optimus with a shrug, unable to meet his optics.

Staring at the other mech Megatron sighed and frowned.  ‘Why is he being evasive? What the Pit is wrong with him?’

Before he could try to find out what had Optimus so morose and the conversation Megatron received a com.  “Come,” he said as the door opened, and Andre stepped inside.  “Just set it down on the table.”

The Vehicon, still in his hat and apron.  He walked in and set a large sealed container down where indicated.  Andre was beaming.  The two mechs could feel it in his field.  He also had no doubt what his lord had in mind.  “Bon Appetite,” he said as he quickly left.

Megatron crooked his finger, beckoning the very reluctant Autobot to come closer. “Come on, this will be fun.”

The red and blue mech looked at him as if he were suggesting that they jump into a smelter. “I would rather not.”

“Oh, come now, Optimus,” the silver mech chuckled.  “I know you are not a prude.  From what I saw during our merge you can be rather daring.  Surely a little Cadmium Cream does not frighten you.”

Sighing tiredly, Optimus took a moment to gather himself.  The look on his face plate was set in a grimace.  “If you must.” 

“I am not about to torture you.  Primus, this seems a rather silly place to draw the line on experimentation,” noted the Decepticon, sounding puzzled.  Considering how adventurous Prime’s memories showed that he was, this made no sense.  Why was he so adamantly against something that was just playful and fun?  Was he really such a martyr that he would not allow himself to enjoy anything that was not rough?

He had been looking forward to using his upgraded glossa on Prime’s valve. Their recent interactions had consisted of the two of them becoming angry and Megatron pounding his snarling mate over the nearest flat surface.

Enjoyable as this was, he wanted to try something less aggressive, gentler.   For once, he wanted to take his time and give his mate pleasure.  Hearing that sexy voice begging for more instead of growling at him would be nice too.

 He wanted them to be able to act like lovers instead of adversaries. 

The war was over.   Yes, the Autobots lost, but they were being well treated.  The humans were keeping their end of the bargain.  Several countries were very happy about the new arrangement.  Weaker nations that had been constantly under threat of being invaded by more powerful ones. 

Also, as Shockwave and Soundwave had postulated after researching the subject, the opening of energon mines was a boon to the human economies.    

 Why could the obstinate Prime not see that this solution was best for all concerned? 

No one would judge him for receiving pleasure.

Optimus, still looking down mumbled something completely unintelligible, his optics on the ground.  Megatron frowned.  “I thought that we could have a little fun.  Why are you being so stubborn?”

After a moment the Autobot answered tersely.  “I despise food play.”

“Really?”  Megatron was completely shocked, while Optimus’ field absolutely radiated disgust.  “What is wrong with food play?”

“I dislike the sticky, itchy feeling on my chassis,” his face plate screwed up with very uncharacteristic anger.  ‘Dislike’ was a very mild term for the emotion that he was broadcasting.

“Primus, what happened to you?”  He shook his helm, very shocked.  “Who ruined something that should be innocent fun?”  Megatron tried to pull up the memories he had picked up in their merge, but apparently Optimus had done his best to suppress that particular memory.

“It does not matter.”

“Yes, it does.  You are about to fight me over an innocent kink,” Megatron sighed.  “I want to know who did this to you?”

When Optimus refused to answer Megatron huffed.  “If we merge now you will not be able to hide it from me.”

After a very long pause.  “It was Jazz,” the Autobot admitted. “Our first and last encounter.”

Optimus liked his Third in Command, but the mech’s taste in pretty much everything was a bit eccentric.  They just did not mesh as lovers.  Besides… “It took Ratchet five hours to scrub the Barium-honey out of my thigh joints and pelvic seams.”

With a sigh, Megatron dipped a finger into the cream.  “This is not sticky or nearly as thick as Barium-honey. I promise, it will not itch and you will enjoy it.”

“I would still rather pass,” Optimus said with a shudder.  

Huffing, the Decepticon frowned.  He had really been looking forward to licking that luscious Cadmium Cream from Prime’s already delectable chassis.  And he had not had the chance to use his upgraded glossa on Optimus’ valve since that first time when he claimed the mech. 

Unfortunately, his mate was so utterly disgusted that Megatron decided it was not worth fighting with him over.  That one experience ruined food play for Optimus.  Trying to force him to do something that he so obviously hated was not going to endear him to the Prime.  

Megatron was about to just seal the container up, place it in his subspace and see if he could eventually coax his mate into a more conventional, probably rough, interface, when he had a flash of inspiration. 

A very powerful memory of Optimus’ nudged at his processor. 

 “Shall we try something else?”  Dipping a finger into the cream, he brought it to his lip plates and licked it off.  He did so again, making some exaggerated noises of pleasure as he did.  Optimus watched suspiciously, but also seemed interested. 

Megatron then scooped up a little more and held out his finger towards Optimus. 

“Care for a taste?”

 

To be continued.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Yes, this is still marked as incomplete. Once again, I found myself nearing five thousand words and I was not anywhere near finished. A bit arbitrary perhaps, but that seems a bit long to me. Anyway, my muse is not ready to put this story down yet. 
> 
> I intend to finish it in the next chapter. (Sigh, famous last words.)


	9. Giving and Receiving Pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wrap up of this part of the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Sticky Sex, Oral, Mech Preg/Mpreg, Food Play, Threesome, Double Penetration, Spark Merge Voyeurism
> 
> I do not own the Transformers Etc and any mistakes are my own.

_“Care for a taste?”_

 

Megatron held his finger out to Optimus.  The sweet fluffy cream looked delicious.  The Prime was interested.  Very interested.  His optics stayed glued on the luscious treat, but his body language was still extremely defensive.  

His frame remained stiff, field radiating suspicion. 

“Would you like some?” Optimus gave him a suspicious glare.  “I plan nothing nefarious.  The cream will go nowhere on your chassis.  Just in your intake.  I promise.”  Megatron smiled as gently as he could and continued to hold out his finger.  The cream was dripping a little, sliding down onto his palm.

The Autobot did not move any closer, but he his optics and field seemed slightly less apprehensive.   Optimus loved Cadmium Cream.  He knew Andre’s was delicious, so the offered treat was very tempting. 

After a moment, Megatron brought the digit to his intake.  He licked off the cream in several slow, sensual swipes of his glossa.  He gave a slightly exaggerated sigh of pleasure with each taste of the cream. 

Megatron scooped up more cream and licked it off his finger again as the Prime looked on with longing.  Smiling, and moving very slowly so as not to startle him, Megatron held his digit before the Prime’s intake.  Unable to resist any longer, Optimus took a cautious step closer. 

After a moment Optimus leaned in and lapped at it delicately.

Pleased, Megatron scooped up a little more cream on his finger.   This time Optimus licked it off without hesitation.  

The fifth time the cream covered digit hovered before his intake, the Autobot did a little more than lick it clean.  Optimus took it into his intake and sucked on it.  His glossa swirled around it to get every last drop of the cream.

Sensing that his mate was starting to relax and enjoy what they were doing, he added a seconded finger, increasing the size of the scoop of cream.  And consequentially, the stretch of that lovely intake.

After a few more two finger scoops Optimus began to suck on them.  Feeling emboldened, and horny, when his fingers entered the Prime’s intake, Megatron slowly moved them in and out.  He kept his field even, waiting to see if Optimus balked at this very blatant sexual overture. 

The red and blue mech released his fingers with a last long, very suggestive lick.

On the next scoop, three thick fingers moved in and out seductively.  They stretched the Prime’s intake while the beautiful Autobot shuttered his optics as he sucked on them.  

The Decepticon was barely keeping his spike panel closed.

This was working out just as Megatron hoped when he had recalled one beautiful memory from their merge.

Optimus was kneeling, fingering his valve.  His optics gazed up at Ultra Magnus with adoration.  (Megatron was much more jealous of that mech than Ratchet.  The medic and Prime were friends with benefits.  But there was obviously more than just interfacing between the Prime and the Wrecker Commander.)  The big blue and white mech released his very large spike, stroking it provocatively before the Prime’s intake.  The warlord had felt the Prime’s burning lust at the sight. 

Optimus was a size queen.  He loved large spikes both in his valve and his intake. 

And Megatron just happened to be equipped with a very large one.  (How fortuitous!)

Following memories of that kink he had discovered many memories of Optimus on his knees between Ultra Magnus and Ironhide. 

Now that had been a surprise.  He knew Ironhide was a good friend of Optimus, but he would never have guessed he would interface with the older mech.

The Weapons specialist had been his bodyguard since he was chosen by the Matrix.   The Decepticon was shocked to discover Ironhide had spent many nights sharing his berth.

He supposed guarding Optimus’ body was easier that way.

Ironhide had been ready to lay down his function for his Prime in a spark beat.  But seeing Optimus taking the older mech to berth was not something he expected to see during their merge.   It was really a shock that Optimus had an open-door policy for his berth room.  At least where his lieutenants were concerned.

Except of course Jazz, for obvious reasons.

He spent a lot of with Magnus, Ratchet, Ironhide and very surprisingly, Prowl. 

He was a bit smaller than Optimus’ usual partners, but thought would have thought the unemotional Prowl could be so… creative? 

Megatron was drawn to one very special memory of Ultra Magnus and Ironhide.

It was like a porn vid.  Optimus had started out kneeling between them, sucking each mech’s spike. He was purring as he alternated between the two until all three were in a frenzy of desire.  The Prime ended up with Ironhide pounding his valve while he deep throated Ultra Magnus. 

That gave Megatron a very nice idea.   Several in fact, but some of the others would have to wait until he managed to gain some measure of trust from Optimus. 

He had wanted to use the cream as an excuse to pleasure Optimus, but things might work out better if he let the Prime indulge his oral kink instead.  The sexy mech was very giving after all.

By allowing Optimus to give him pleasure, perhaps he would be more inclined to accept it from Megatron?

The blue and red mech was contentedly sucking on three fingers when Megatron petted his helm with one servo while the other ran over his spike cover.  “Would you like something a little more substantial in your intake?” he asked suggestively, leaving no room to doubt his meaning.

Optics bright with desire, Optimus glanced down at the silver mech’s spike cover.  The bright blue orbs returned to his face plate.  Releasing his fingers, the Prime smiled, all reluctance gone.  “Yes.”

Opening his spike panel Megatron took a servo full of the Cadmium Cream and slowly slathered the dessert over his length.  The cool cream sent a shiver up his spinal strut.  This was not something he had ever done before.  

Primus, he could easily get himself off like this.  Stroking himself with the cream.  Another time he hoped to do just that with Optimus watching. 

He almost did overload on the spot when Optimus Prime dropped gracefully to his knees before him.  Megatron let out a low moan at the sight.  How many times had he fantasied about having this mech on kneeling at his peds?  Now he was doing so of his own free will, in order to suck the Decepticon’s spike.

Life was not just good; it was fragging amazing!

Very slowly, Optimus began to lap at the cream on the tip of Megatron’s spike.  He took his sweet time working his way down the Decepticon’s length.  Each leisurely movement of his glossa was sweet torture on his spike.

Megatron gasped, grasping at Prime’s helm as that hot intake closed over his entire spike.  Prime’s glassa wrapped around his length as he hummed.  “Oh!  Oh yes!  Optimus, you are so good at this,” he played with those long, touchable finials.

In answer, the Autobot hummed around his spike, encouraging him to thrust into his intake.   Some mechs did not like that.  Optimus was definitely not one of them.   The deeper, the better.

Very soon Megatron felt his climax approaching.  Being a considerate lover, he tried to warn his mate.  “Optimus, I’m… Primus, I’m going to…”  He managed to get out, giving the Autobot a chance to pull off.  Large servos took hold of his hips and the suction on his spike increased.

Just as he craved, transfluids shot into the Prime’s hungry intake.  He swallowed every drop with as much pleasure as he had the Cadmium Cream.

Panting, Megatron stroked Optimus’ helm.  His mate’s optics were still shuttered as he savored the taste.  He had never looked so content.   The Decepticon smile, seeing that his panel was open, valve dripping.  Optimus’ long, thick fingers were pumping in and out.

He REALLY enjoyed sucking spikes.

The lubricants trickling down the Prime’s thighs made Megatron’s intake water as the warlord decided to see if he could make the lovely Prime even more content.   “May I return the favor?”

A little apprehension started to creep back into Prime’s otherwise aroused field.  “That will not be necessary.  My spike is not active.”  The spike protocols of sparked mechs went dormant since they would be an unnecessary drain on their systems.

“But your valve is working perfectly.” Megatron smiled, letting his glossa flick over his lip plates.  Optimus still looked apprehensive.  “No cream needed,” the warlord added hastily.  “As I recall, you taste just exquisite without any enhancements.”

Optimus relaxed visibly and let Megatron guide him to the berth.  He lay back and opened his leg struts, offering his dripping valve.  A very pleased Decepticon crawled into the berth. 

He could finally take his time and use his upgraded glossa to overload his mate multiple times. 

His glossa had been upgraded by his owner when he was a gladiator.  He wanted Megatron to be able to give him pleasure that way.  It was one of the few things done by his owner that he was not resentful of from his time in the Pits.  That upgrade made him a very popular mech. 

His slid his glossa deep, sending out mag pulses.  Optimus lurched off the berth, keening with pleasure.  “Primus!” the shaking Autobot managed to gasp after his third, extremely intense overload. 

Another pulse from the upgraded glossa and he was completely incoherent.

Straining to get as deep as it would go, Megatron unsurprisingly found that he did not miss the Cadmium Cream.

Optimus cried out one last time and collapsed into recharge.

Pulling the limp mech to his chest plate, Megatron was a little surprised.  The Prime cuddled against him contentedly.  This was a welcome change from having his mate pull away whenever he fell into recharge.  Instead he snuggled deeper into Megatron’s arms.

Holding the sleeping mech he sighed.  The Warlord knew that a little gentle interface would not fix every issue between them, but it was a start.

 

Early the next morning: The waiting room of the Nemesis med bay was full to capacity.  It was so full that there were Vehicons and Eradicons camped out in the hallway.

Soundwave would usually not be comfortable surrounded by so many mechs.   In a way he envied Laserbeak, who was sitting on a convenient spot in the support beams.  He was well above the crowd.

Every Autobot, except Smokescreen who was still recovering, anxiously awaited word on Bumblebee’s new voice box.

Knock Out was assisting Ratchet with the operation, but Breakdown was there with Arcee and Bulkhead for moral support.  Charlene, Enrico, Bert, Ernie, Rob and Andre were there along with several others.

Andre brought snacks.  Much to the mortification of Optimus, who could not stop picking at the trays of energon rolls.  The chef made sure that he brought several trays, knowing that there needed to be a lot so that everybot could have some.

Optimus was a very large mech.  He could eat a great deal, now that there was no shortage of energon.

These were the ones that were friendly with the Autobots.  The others were being kept informed by a general comm from Soundwave.

One mech that was conspicuously absent was Megatron.  His official reason was since Soundwave and Starscream would both be unable to stand watch for obvious reasons; so, he would remain on the bridge.

What was left unsaid was the real reason that he was not waiting with Optimus.

It had been Megatron in a fit of very vindictive rage that had ripped the young scout’s voice out. 

Considering the progress that he and Optimus had made, he decided that it would be best not to remind his mate of that fact.  Besides, he knew his presence would put a damper on the occasion for everybot.  Best to let the Autobots and the friends they had made within his crew have some time to celebrate.

Perhaps Optimus would still be in a celebratory mood when he returned to their quarters.

Ratchet had explained everything beforehand.  That it would take several hours for him to connect the myriad of microscopic wires to Bumblebee’s processor and give him back his voice. 

There were quiet conversations going on around the room.  Most speculating on what Bee’s new voice would sound like.

The consensus was that he would want to sound something like Smokescreen.  A nice, mid-range voice, very young sounding voice.  A few chuckled, speculating about what it would be like if the young scout opted for a deep vocal register like Optimus.   Others thought perhaps he should opt for something more like Arcee.

Ernie is sure that his new voice will be perfect for him, no matter what it sounded like.  Most agreed with the Vehicon’s assessment.

The entire operation took five hours.  Optimus was starting on the third tray of treats.  (He did not eat them all, but probably more than half.  He was a big mech after all.)

Suddenly, the door opened.  Everyone turned expectantly.

Ratchet came out first.  He looked tired, but pleased.

Bumblebee stepped out with Knock Out right behind.  The Aston Martin was positively beaming.

Bee hesitated a moment, then said. “Uh… Hi everyone.”

A cheer went up from the assembled mechs and the young scout found himself on the receiving end of a massive group hug.  Bulkhead dominated it since he was so much larger than Arcee or any of the Vehicons and Eradicons.  Once he finally extracted himself from the enthusiastic tangle of mechs he almost fell into Optimus’ arms. 

“Your voice is perfect. It is just the same as before, and I am so happy to be able to hear it again,” said the Prime with a very happy smile.   He gave Bumblebee a hug.  He could never say so while they were at war, Optimus could never tell his young scout how much he loved him. 

He cared about every mech under his command.  He did have a special relationship with Ratchet, but Bumblebee had always been special.  He and his staff had raised him from a youngling and Optimus thought of the yellow mech as his creation.

“I think I nearly drove Ratchet crazy trying to make sure it sounded just right,” Bee admitted with a grin.

“I do not believe he minded,” assured Optimus, noticing that his medic was absolutely glowing.  Just this once, he could give Bert and Ernie a run for their Shanix in the ‘too happy’ department.

Finally, all the well-wishers stepped back, allowing the young mech a little space.  Much to his own surprise, he found himself scanning the room for one mech.  Or rather two.

‘Bee!’ called Laserbeak from his spot on the rafters.   Soundwave’s silent form stood beneath him, in the far corner of the room.  Everyone was quiet as Bumblebee walked nervously up to the much taller mech.

“What do you think of my new voice?” he asked shyly.

A smiley face appeared on Soundwave’s visor.  “That voice suites you,” said Knock Out’s voice.

The Decepticon medic chuckled.  “Hey, I just said that in the operating theater!” He sighed.  “Of course, you and your little spy,” he indicated Laserbeak, “would be listening in.”

“Of course,” admitted Soundwave, with Starscream’s voice. 

“There is something else you should know, Soundwave,” said Ratchet, walking up to them.  He and Bee had a very quick, quiet talk.  He was not sure whether Soundwave had heard it all but decided to announce this as Bee wanted.  “Before the operation I did a full scan of Bumblebee.  His gestational chamber has started working.  But he is still too depleted to carry.  It would be best if you give him some more time to rest and continue taking enriched energon before attempting to spark him.  I would say another three weeks for him to be at optimal health.  I can examine him then and let you know if he is ready.”

Laserbeak swooped down and latched onto his docking station on Soundwave’s chest.  The silent mech wrapped a tentacle around Bee and drew his mate close.  “That is good, medic,” said Megatron’s voice.  “Shall we?” this time it was Charlene used as he guided Bumblebee out of the room.  Under normal circumstances Soundwave would be given a wide berth by every single Decepticon.  This one-time everybot stayed close and a few servos even patted both mechs on the back. 

This was much more familiar than anyone would usually be with Soundwave, but just this once, he would allow it.

 

Breakdown was sparked within two days (and very active nights) after being given permission by Megatron to create.

The big mech received a lot of congratulations and even a few hugs from his Vehicon and Eradicon friends.

Bulkhead was genuinely happy for his rival.  Although neither he nor Arcee took them up on their offer to… join them in creating the sparklings.  He could feel Breakdown’s happiness from the residual effects of their merge.  And the Autobot was always a gentle, forgiving mech beneath his rough exterior.

His femme friend was more reserved.  Arcee was happy for them.  She could not help that, since she too was still feeling Knock Out’s emotions after their merge.  But she was not as forgiving as Bulkhead.   

Always in the back of her processor was her lost partners, Tailgate and Cliffjumper.  Her attitude had softened towards the Decepticons, there was no denying that.  But the pain in her spark from the loss of those dearest to her, she could not forgive.

Not yet. 

Still, she found herself excited about the sparklings.  It had been so long since   Ratchet soon confirmed that Breakdown, being completely healthy and well-nourished unlike the Autobots, was expecting four sparklings. 

There were a lot of Vehicons and Eradicons wanting to touch his abdominal plating.  The Decepticon was surprisingly open to allowing this.  He said the sparklings enjoyed it.  He could feel little happy teeks whenever anyone touched his plating.

Perhaps because they are stronger than the other sparklings, they appeared to be much more aware of their surroundings at an earlier age.  Although, Optimus and Ratchet’s bitlets were starting to react, especially to their respective sires.

Every time Shockwave was close, Ratchet’s little ones began pulsing with joy.

Optimus’ seemed to purr when their sire came near.  And when they received transfluids, they were positively ecstatic.

Starscream was a little upset that his sparkling was not so aware, but Ratchet assured him that it was not unexpected considering Smokescreen’s condition.  He would monitor the bitlet’s development and if they were not teeking in a week or so, he would up the minerals in the young Autobot’s energon.

The medic did not want to do that unless he had to.  Too many minerals can cause issues for the carrier.

 

Ernie, the (overly) cheerful Vehicon was also sparked.

Optimus could not help but chuckle when he found out that his ‘guards’ were expecting.  If he thought Ernie and Bert were happy before, they positively glowed with joy now.  And he could not blame them.  They had been mates for decades and had always wanted sparklings.  It was hard not smile when they were near.

The pair practically skipped down the corridor beside him as they made their way to the break room. 

“What do you think we should call them?” Ernie said thoughtfully. 

Bert looked a little confused. “I had not even thought about that.  It seemed such a remote possibility that we would ever have sparklings.  I never dared consider designations.”

“You should relax, Bert.  You have about seven Earth months to decide,” Optimus assured. “I am sure you will think of some by then.”

“It may take that long to come up with three perfect names,” sighed Bert.   Ratchet had already told the mates that they were having a trine.  If anything, this made them even more excited.  And a little nervous. 

“Now that I know we are having them, I am afraid that I will not be a good carrier,” Ernie admitted dejectedly to Ratchet.

“That is nonsense,” countered the medic, patting him on the shoulder.   He had been subjected to the pair’s cheerfulness as well.  It was sheer torture for a confirmed grump like Ratchet.  Still, despite his curmudgeonly demeanor, he could not help but like them.

Not that he would ever admit it to anybot.  He had a reputation to uphold.

“Primus, below, you two make Optimus look like a slagging pessimist.  Those bitlets are lucky to have such kind and caring creators.   But if it makes you feel better, I have some data pads on sparkling care in my room at our base.  I did not think about it before, but I can have someone send them over and upload copies of them to the ship’s library.   We will have over a dozen bitlets soon.   Best to let the carrying mechs know what they are in for.”

 The two Vehicons both looked relieved.   Bert commed Soundwave to relay the information to Wilhelm.  He was in command of the mechs now stationed at the old Autobot base.  He could have somebot get the data pads.

The other two sparked Decepticons, Enrico and Andre, who were having one sparkling.  The chef and a Vehicon named Rob had been mates for centuries.  Like the sweet couple Bert and Ernie, everybot was happy to allow them to create first.

Enrico was not as high profile as the other two sparked mechs, but he had another name that the others called him. Lucky.

He was not even a warrior.  Enrico was a Vehicon miner.  One that had managed to survive, not only multiple encounters with the Autobots, but Starscream blowing up a mine and another being attacked by feral Insecticons.

He also survived Megatron’s temper.

Although they were all loyal, every Vehicon and Eradicon had been wary of their Lord.  He had ended up terminating a few of them when enraged by a stinging defeat or other frustration.  Something that he did genuinely regret.  And Optimus was helping him work with it.  The Autobot would not allow him to continue to lash out at those around him when he was angry. Certainly not when there would soon be sparklings around.

Enrico was very happy to here that. 

He and Terrence, who was an Eradicon, were going to have twins, which Ratchet pronounced healthy.   

There were cheers, hugs and congratulations all around when Enrico made the declaration. 

And then, Megatron made another announcement.   They were now in contact with more Decepticons.   Soundwave had received a communication from Thrust, Dirge and Ramjet.  They were the first to respond. 

Having heard their Lord’s proclamation that the war was over, and the Seekers were on their way to Cybertron.

And they had recently spoken to several other Decepticons.  Soon there would be many more of them on the way to Cybertron.

The Nemesis was a very happy place. 

 

Epilog.

Soundwave strode slowly onto the bridge.  He had been waiting for word that the Seekers had arrived on Cybertron when he intercepted a message.  Something that required his Lord’s immediate attention.

It was important, still he took a moment to appreciate the sight that greeted him. 

Megatron was lounging on his throne.  Optimus sat in what had become his customary place on the Bridge.  A plush ‘Decepticon’ purple cushion set beside the throne. 

The first time the Prime was told to sit on it he was not stiff or radiating disgust. (He was not a pet!) But over the last several weeks he had become accustomed to using it.  In fact, he found he liked it.  The cushion was extremely soft and very comfortable.

So comfortable in fact, Optimus frequently went into recharge, leaning on Megatron’s thigh. 

Megatron was stroking his back gently.  The two were still not completely in sync, but they were getting better.

The blue mech stopped before his lord and waited to be acknowledged.

After a moment Megatron looks up, although his servo was still on caressing his audio.  “Report.”

A strange voice came from Third-In-Command.  ‘Hey, Doc, come in.  Bulk?  Prime?  Where are you guys?  Is anybot home?  This is Wheeljack.   I just got back to Earth after having a bit of a tussle with some Cons.   The Jackhammer could use some repairs.” There was a pause.  “And… so could I.”

“Well, well,” Megatron smiled, though he kept his voice low.  He looked down at Optimus, who was still recharging peacefully.   He stroked his mate’s helm fondly, issuing his orders to the blue mech.  “We have an injured Autobot arriving on Earth.  Trace his signal, Soundwave.  Since all Autobots are now Decepticon property, it is our duty find and care for him.”

Optimus whimpered a little in his recharge nuzzling against a silver thigh but did not stir as Soundwave dipped his helm, turned on his heels and strode towards his console to arrange for a team to collect their new carrier.

 

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Notes: YES!! I finally did it this time! We have reached the end of the middle arc of the story. The next part will obviously start with the Decepticons attempting to capture Wheeljack. The sequel will probably be about 10 chapters long and that should wrap up Surrender. 
> 
> I intend to try to finish Civilized Behavior before working on the next part of this story.

**Author's Note:**

> Next Chapter: Soundwave and Bumblebee.


End file.
